


If I Could Take You to Heaven

by ladykardasi



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: AU, Anal Play, Clothed Sex, Clothes Kink, Cunnilingus, Dirty Talk, Explicit Sex, F/M, Fellatio, First Time, Fluff, Frottage, HEA, HP-EWE, Healing, Hermione is not a student, Lemons, Lust, Minor Angst, Oral Sex, Post-Hogwarts, Resolved Sexual Tension, Rimming, Romance, Sex, Smut, Snape Lives, Thestrals, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Voice Kink, Wall Sex, age-difference, blowjob, generational relationship, sprinkle of plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-08
Updated: 2018-01-12
Packaged: 2019-03-02 05:56:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 32,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13311918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladykardasi/pseuds/ladykardasi
Summary: Hermione gets a shock when she starts seeing Severus Snape as more than a former teacher. When did she start thinking of him as a man? And kisses under the mistletoe might be more intriguing than either of them had ever expected.“Bloody hell, Hermione,” he burst out, and before he was even aware of what he was doing, his arm had shot out and pulled her into his embrace. Her soft body against him felt like perfection; the past few days of separation had been awful, but he’d had a mission to accomplish. “I don’t… I never would have left if…” Severus didn’t know how to tell her what he meant, and could hardly speak past the tangle of emotions choking him.Part of the 2017 Hermione/Snape Giftfest HG/SS giftfest on Livejournal. It is not really a Christmas story as such.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [articcat621](https://archiveofourown.org/users/articcat621/gifts).



> Feedback really is appreciated. Take time to review. It does notvhave to be long. It just gives me incentive to write more and sshg is my pairing of choice.
> 
>  **Title:** If I Could Take You to Heaven  
>  **Author:** ladykardasi  
>  **Summary:** Hermione gets a shock when she starts seeing Severus Snape as more than a former teacher. When did she start thinking of him as a man? And kisses under the mistletoe might be more intriguing than either of them had ever expected.  
>  **SS/HG Giftfest** on LJ. Story for: **articcat621**  
>  **Rating:** NC17 / Explicit.  
>  **Word count:** ~32 200  
>  **Pairing:** Hermione Granger/Severus Snape  
>  **Tabs:** Romance, Fluff, First Time, Smut, Sex, oral sex, lust, sprinkle of plot, AU, Snape Lives, HP-EWE, blowjob, cunnilingus, fellatio, rimming, anal play, lemons, frottage, clothed sex, wall sex, minor angst, generational relationship, age-difference, explicit sex, post-Hogwarts, Hermione is not a student, healing, dirty talk, voice kink, clothes kink.  
>  **Characters:** Hermione Granger, Severus Snape, Harry Potter, Minerva McGonagall, Poppy Pomfrey, Rubeus Hagrid, Ron Weasley, Charlie Weasley, Ginny Potter, Arthur Weasley.  
>  **Warnings:** None, unless smut sets you off. There is smut. Explicit Smut. Just so as you know… Two consenting adults though. No underage or non-con.  
>  **Disclaimer:** All recognizable characters belong to JK Rowling and associates. No copyright infringement intended. All I own is a dirty mind. Not making any money from this.  
> 

_I wanna take you to heaven_   
_That would make my day complete…_   
_“You and Me,“ © 1977, Lace and Whiskey, Alice Cooper_

 

**ONE**

Severus Snape walked up the stairs to the Headmistress’ office. It wasn’t something he was looking forward to. The last time he had been in this room, he had been under The Dark Lord’s thumb. His footfalls were heavy, and he ran a hand tiredly across his face before knocking. McGonagall’s voice beckoned him inside and he drew a deep breath. 

“Severus,” she said and gave him a tentative smile. It was disconcerting to see such a strong and confident woman looking so uncertain, but Snape smiled back in what he hoped was an encouraging way – he had little experience of that kind – and sat in the chair that she had indicated. 

“Minerva,” he replied and crossed his long legs at the ankles, trying to look comfortable even though he was anything but. 

“I expect you know why you are here,” she said and leaned across her desk, steepling her fingers in front of her. 

“I expect so,” he replied and held up a hand when she looked like she was about to speak. “I have to stop you, however, because what I have to say will make things very different.”

She looked at him, suddenly wary, and this was the very reason why he wanted to get to the point as quickly and succinctly as possible. 

“I don’t want the position. I never did,” he said firmly. 

The Headmistress drew a deep breath and it was as though a lot of the tension just drained out of her. Her tired face suddenly looked so much calmer and the cord that had lain twisted in his own gut seemed to uncoil. They were on the same page after all. 

“Why?” she asked. “You certainly deserve it after everything you have done for the Wizarding world.”

He laughed, a short, mirthless laugh that sounded more like a bark. “Let’s not be melodramatic, Minerva. As you surely must recall I have done many things _to_ the Wizarding world as well.” he said. “I don’t _deserve_ anything. I have been an unmitigated bastard the entire time I have been at Hogwarts, and the fact that I nearly died doesn’t give me the right to any particular … perks.”

McGonagall tilted her head to the side. “You may always have been a bastard, Severus, you’ve certainly done your name proud…. “ McGonagall pursed her lips, but then continued: “But Hogwarts failed you – _I_ failed you – and when I think of what you must have been through….” She looked away from him and swallowed hard before meeting his eyes again. This time her gaze was yet again so very contrite. “I am sorry I didn’t trust you.”

It wasn’t the first time the subject had come up. 

“And why should you have?”

Memories of days and nights spent her in this very office, flashed through his mind.

_Constantly following Albus’ orders, questioning them, but never getting any answers …_

_Time and time again being tortured by Voldemort, atoning for his life’s worst mistake. That bloody prophecy …_

_Trying to help the brat of his childhood’s worst enemy._

_All the mistakes he had made and all the horrible acts he’d been forced to commit, all in the name of keeping Harry Potter safe, and ridding the world of the darkest wizard in memory._

They’d succeeded. He’d lived, but through it all he’d been alone. Ever since Lily died twenty years ago, he’d had nobody he could call close. The reasons were many, but the first and foremost in his mind was that he couldn’t put anyone at risk by being cared for by him. But even before he became a Death Eater, he’d been alone. The reason for that loneliness was his own damned stupidity, hunger for power, and a bone deep lust for revenge on the man who took Lily from him.

Now, he could admit that Lily had never been his to begin with. 

“I know you, Severus, I should have…” McGonagall started, pulling him away from the memories, but he interrupted her. 

“Nobody knew me, Minerva. Not even Albus. Nobody knows me now either. Not who I really am. Even I don’t know who Severus Snape is anymore!” Snape hissed. “All I know is that I am a Potions Master, who also happen to be very good at what I do, and a decent teacher. I might even be a better teacher now that I don’t have to intimidate and repel everyone around me any longer.” 

“I still should have trusted you,” she insisted. 

“Nobody trusted me. You weren’t supposed to. Why should you be any different from everyone else? Stop apologising. There is nothing to apologise for. Not for you anyway,” he sneered. Her words of apology only brought back those awful memories of what he had been forced to do to stay on Voldemort’s good side – not that he had had one. 

She sighed, and he felt a sliver of triumph. Surely, she wouldn’t bring up the past now, not want to hash through why she had let slide the bullying when he was a teenager. Minerva had tried to speak to him about that on numerous occasions as well, but he just wanted to forget all about Potter, Black, Lupin and Pettigrew – not to mention Lily. Finally, they could get to the point. He was not to be headmaster – not _ever_ again if he had any say in the matter, but he wanted to stay at Hogwarts. Why, he wasn’t exactly sure, but there it was. Perhaps because the castle had been his home for most of his adult life. 

“Will you stay on as Potions professor at least?” she asked, as though reading his mind. “There is no one better, Severus, and we both know it.”

Another of those short barks of laughter escaped him and he looked at Minerva with a touch of mirth in his black eyes. “I can think of quite a few students who would disagree with you, Minerva,” he replied. “And some parents as well.” Then he leaned forward, uncrossing his feet and resting his elbows on his knees. “However, I would like to stay. I would like to go back to some semblance of normality as soon as I possibly can. It’s been long enough. I need to get back to … life.”

Life, something he hadn’t experienced in far too long. 

McGonagall nodded and if he wasn’t mistaken, she looked relieved. “I am glad, Severus. Being who you are, I think Hogwarts is the best place for you to be. At least for the foreseeable future.”

Snape could only agree. There were still many who didn’t think kindly of him, not that he could blame them. 

* * *

For many, long months after the war ended, Snape had been at St Mungo’s, in a deep healing coma. Nagini had struck so many times, filling his veins with her horrible venom, torn his throat to pieces. It had taken a long time to heal and to remove all of the toxic venom out of his system. Snape had woken with the inability to speak, but his voice had slowly come back to him and now it was, perhaps in the lower registry of what it had been, but perfectly serviceable. 

After being awakened from the magically induced coma, he had been subjected to several extremely painful months of trying to get his body to cooperate. It had been as though being a child again, having to relearn everything. Things like holding a spoon, getting out of bed, going to the loo by himself; all of it had been excruciatingly painful, not to mention annoying. After that there had been months of physical therapy to regain muscle mass. It had been as though the venom had still resided in his lymphatic glands and inside his very bones, causing an unbearable ache. Even his thoughts had been sluggish and foggy to begin with. He was still not back to his former strength, but the physician, that had been his constant companion for more than a year, assured him that he would regain more of his former self in time. And the pain had slowly subsided into a dull ache that he was getting used to. 

But St: Mungo’s was finally behind him and he was back at Hogwarts, more or less healthy.

Snape dropped the small bag he carried and looked around his old quarters. It looked like it always had, clean, rundown and spartan but at least it bore few, if any, memories of the catastrophic year when he’d been headmaster. For that he was infinitely grateful. 

Snape pulled a finger along the mantle of the fireplace and rubbed his thumb and forefinger together. There wasn’t even a speck of dust. The house elves must have kept it clean even though he hadn’t been here in over a year. Books, journals and periodicals were stacked high on his desk. He’d have a lot of catching up to do, he thought, and almost smiled to himself. It felt odd, being here. It was the closest thing he had to a home, yes, but it was quite sad looking and impersonal. But for the first time in his life he would have a chance to make the dungeons into a home that reflected who he was, and what he did – whoever and whatever that was. 

In two months, school would start anew, with McGonagall as Headmistress, with Flitwick as her deputy, and with him back at his old post. At least he assumed that the Ministry would make permanent the solution they had reverted to while he was convalescing. Grudgingly, he admitted that McGonagall in all her Gryffindor righteousness certainly deserved the post as Headmistress. 

For a moment, Snape felt as though time had gone backwards to before the war. The only thing that was missing was … Albus. Or maybe not the only thing, but the person whose loss Snape felt most keenly. Dumbledore had been a bastard and a manipulative old coot, twinkly eyes or no, but he had also been the closest thing to a father, and friend, that Snape had had for many years. Nobody ever trusted him the way Albus had, and nobody knew him well enough either. Again, Snape felt the mixed sense of grief, anger and guilt that always assaulted him when he thought of the former Headmaster. He suspected that those feelings would never completely go away, and that was alright. Whether it had been necessary or not, he had killed the old man, and he deserved to feel the pain of his loss. 

Snape straightened his back and moved into the rooms that had been his home for the better part of his adult life. It seemed like the things he hadn’t bothered – or even had time – to bring into the Headmaster’s quarters were exactly where he left them. Furniture, books, potions ingredients and his clothes. When he had been ordered by Voldemort to take on the role as Headmaster, he had known the position would be temporary, and he hadn’t expected to stay alive long enough to ever see these quarters again.

* * *

Over the following weeks, Snape felt like his life was finally reaching an equilibrium, and perhaps he would be able to move forward. Now, nearly a year and a half after being bitten by Nagini, Snape felt like he was finally free to do whatever he wanted. That was a heady notion, one that made him throw himself into preparing for the new school year. Working on a completely new curriculum gave him a sense of calm he hadn’t felt in years. For the first time in a very long time, he was looking forward to the beginning of term. 

 

**TWO**

“Do you have everything you need?” Harry asked, and his voice was full of the concern he had shown her ever since she told him where her apprenticeship would be. 

“Yes, mum,” Hermione replied and gave up another exasperated sigh. She knew he still had worries about her going back to Hogwarts for good. Or at least for a very long time. 

Hermione was standing in front of the mirror in one of the bathrooms at 12 Grimmauld Place, battling the mess of curls, that was her hair, into submission. Just a regular pony tail, nothing fancy. But it was so thick now. She’d have to take the time to cut and thin it out soon. Looking like a mess when she arrived at Hogwarts wasn’t what she had planned but there had been so many other things to prepare. 

“No more nightmares?” Harry doggedly continued, looking at her face in the mirror. She could see his reflection where he was standing behind her, leaning against the door jamb. 

“Of course, I have nightmares,” Hermione replied gently and finally turned around to meet his green eyes properly. “But that has nothing to do with Hogwarts, you know that.”

“I still don’t really want to go back there,” Harry muttered. 

Hermione sighed, and opened her mouth, but Harry waved his hand dismissively. “I know, I know…. _You_ are not me. _You_ lived at Hogwarts for months after the war, when you finished your seventh year. _Your_ nightmares go with you wherever you are. _You_ …” he fell silent and closed his eyes for a moment. “I know,” he finished finally and met her gaze. “Shall we go?”

It wasn’t as though she needed the help. All her belongings had been shrunk and put into her customary, beaded bag and only a few things remained out of it. Like Crookshanks. She couldn’t very well shrink him, now could she? Despite not needing the help, it still felt good having Harry with her. He’d been her rock for the past year when she’d been struggling to come to terms with the fact that Ron had broken off their engagement. That had been just after she had taken her N.E.W.T.S., and she had been inconsolable. She loved Ron so deeply and had believed they would stay together, get married, have kids … but that had been before. Over the past year she had realized that Ron was her friend, and she did love him. Just like she loved Harry. They had just been a little confused there for a while. Mostly her, really. 

Harry and Ginny had been there for her and she was grateful to both for their friendship. Now she knew that what happened had probably been for the best. Ron had not been ready for a family even if he had thought so at the time, and the thought of popping out redheads on a conveyor belt now made her shudder. She should have realised long ago that it was not her idea of a future, and with Ron that’s where she’d been heading, even if it weren’t right away. One kid, or even two … yes, maybe … probably. Ten? No. They hadn’t even really had much fun while practising for getting pregnant, either. Hermione grinned to herself, and it suddenly dawned on her that she had finally, truly gotten over Ron when she could joke – even in her own mind – about the, more often than not, rather boring sex life they had had. 

“Yeah, let’s go,” she agreed. Harry took the oversized bag containing her books that couldn’t be shrunk, as well as the potions ingredients that were too volatile to be risked. For her part, Hermione picked up Crookshanks’ cage and walked with Harry down the stairs, and outside. It was a beautiful summer day and Britain showed itself at its finest. Hermione closed her eyes for a second and allowed the sun and the light summer’s breeze caress her face before she threw one last look at Grimmauld Place. She would be back, of course, but not for a while. 

They Apparated to the gates of Hogwarts. It was Harry’s first time back since the end of the war, and she knew his nightmares about the battle were far worse than hers. He looked almost queasy where he stood, with his eyes downcast and closed, as though just seeing Hogwarts was way more than he could handle. Hermione moved closer and slid her free arm around his waist. “You okay?” she asked softly. “I’m right here. Not going anywhere.”

Although it had gone unspoken, Hermione knew that this was the main reason he had come with her – to face his demons. As she embraced her best friend it felt good to be the one offering support after the tumult of the past year. 

Slowly, hesitantly, he opened his eyes and pushed his spectacles further up on his nose, as though wanting to delay having to look at the view before him. But then, finally, he did. 

There was a crease on his forehead, reminding Hermione of the permanent scowl on Professor Snape’s face, and Harry’s gaze was tormented as he stared at the castle. For long moments, she waited, but then he suddenly relaxed. The change was so obvious that Hermione could feel the tension in his muscles just drain away. He almost sagged with the sentiment that was apparently running through him. As Hermione steadied him, her concern slowly shifted into relief. 

“Wow,” Harry gasped, and his mouth fell open. “It looks almost the same, like nothing ever happened. There are lighter stones, one of those smaller towers is missing …”

“It does look like it used to, doesn’t it?” Hermione agreed. She was as amazed as he was. In the last nine months, Hogwarts had returned to its former glory. “It’s amazing. Even the Quidditch pitch is back to normal, or from what I’ve been told, it’s even better than before. As you know, I wouldn’t be the best judge of that.”

Harry sent her a distracted smile and returned his gaze to the castle. “Awesome.” 

Hermione grinned, and joy flooded her at the sight of Harry’s green eyes getting some of their spark back. It was as though he had expected the grounds to look like they had the last time they were there, complete with crumbling walls, rocks, fallen towers, fires, dead bodies and the stench of fear, acrid spells and blood that had hung thickly in the air. When she returned to Hogwarts to finalise her studies, it had looked different from during the battle, of course, but now … now it looked fantastic. 

“Let’s go,” Harry said with a new spring in his step, and Hermione had to almost hit a jog to keep up with him. Crookshanks yowled in protest and Hermione laughed, feeling more light-hearted than she had since long before the war. Surer than ever, this would be the new start she needed. 

* * *

“Miss Granger! How nice to finally have you here again! And Mr. Potter, it’s been too long!” McGonagall greeted them both as they entered her office. The Headmistress and Hermione had grown close during the aftermath of the war. Hermione was one of the few students who returned to take their N.E.W.T.s and McGonagall, being her Head of House meant Hermione got more than her share of attention. It had been good, having someone to rely on here at Hogwarts. Truthfully, Hermione wasn’t sure she would have gotten through the aftermath of the war without the older woman. 

“Headmistress,” they both said, almost in unison. Hermione suddenly felt years younger and the old respect for her Head of House returned. 

However, McGonagall apparently couldn’t keep the formality up any longer and she rose and walked around her desk. “Please, Hermione, continue to call me Minerva, and you as well, Mr. Potter. I will call you Harry from now on if that is alright. I know it is a bit unorthodox as I will surely be your superior, Hermione, but for all intents and purposes, Poppy is the one you will be dealing with daily. There has just been too much water under the bridge to keep the old formalities.”

Unexpectedly, Hermione was enveloped in the bony but strong embrace of the Headmistress. Fleetingly, she wondered who was supporting the older woman, and vowed to make sure that she leant a supporting shoulder to her mentor, whenever she had the opportunity. Harry shot her an amused look when he was promptly subjected to the same treatment. Minerva took a step back and Hermione was surprised to see the moisture in her eyes. “It was a wretched time,” she said as she looked at Harry. “And I am glad you finally decided to come back here. You need to reacquaint yourself with Hogwarts, Harry. I believe it is for the best, for your own peace of mind. Only Merlin knows how I would have felt had I not been here the entire time, through the restorations and rebuilding.”

Harry nodded solemnly. “I think you might be right, Hea… Minerva,” he said and sat in the chair she indicated. “It’s like a weight was lifted from my chest when I opened my eyes and saw her … Hogwarts is back to her former glory, and it is such a relief.”

Minerva nodded as a house-elf popped into her office. Soon, they were offered the requisite tea and biscuits. Sitting amiably, they chatted about the past year and Hermione noticed how everything inside her suddenly settled. 

“Poppy will be here shortly,” Minerva finally said, and Hermione nodded. “How about I show you around the castle, while Hermione gets her introduction,” she continued, turning to Harry. 

“I would like that, very much,” Harry agreed and as though on cue, Poppy Pomfrey entered the Headmistress’ office. 

“Miss Granger. Mr. Potter,” she greeted. “I’m afraid I must collect Miss Granger and return to the ward. There has been an accident that apparently requires my attention. Hagrid brought in his crup of all things, and since there isn’t a veterinarian on the grounds …” She smiled ruefully. “I believe that Hagrid is worse off than the crup …”

Hermione followed the Mediwitch to the infirmary and was promptly introduced to her new responsibilities which included a crup with one broken tail and a thoroughly distraught half-giant. 

 

**THREE**

That evening, only a week before term would start, Snape went to the Great Hall for dinner, as he usually did. The Head Table was full, since all professors had returned in preparation for the coming school year. In truth, there was only one face he had not expected to see. 

_Hermione Granger._

What was she doing at Hogwarts? As far as he knew – not that he had been asking – she had taken her N.E.W.T.S, passed them with flying colours and that had been, as they say, that. She should have been reaping the benefits of her hard work. After all, with Voldemort gone, the world should be her oyster. 

Apparently not. 

Was she visiting McGonagall for the day? As his mind tried to find an explanation why this former student was back, the Headmistress rose to her feet and clinked her glass with a fork to call everyone’s attention. Reluctantly – _surely not_ – Snape drew his gaze away from Miss Granger, and her hair, that did its damndest to escape a high pony tail, to look at McGonagall. 

“As I am sure most of you have realized, there is a new face here at the Head Table. Well, _new_ might be stretching it a bit, since we all know Miss Hermione Granger from before. She finished here last year before Christmas and has been going through preparatory courses at St Mungo’s, and now she’s ready for Hogwarts. Miss Granger has returned to us to apprentice under Poppy for the coming three years. Let’s all give her a welcoming hand.”

The room filled with applause, welcoming murmurs and lifted glasses at Granger. Snape said and did nothing. He ventured a look at her, and was taken aback when her hazel brown eyes met his steadily. Why was she looking at him? Was she expecting him to rise to his feet and hold a welcoming speech? To fall to his knees and thank her publicly and profoundly for saving his wretched life? Snape gave a snort and turned his gaze to the food that had appeared on the table while McGonagall voiced her welcoming words. 

When he, several minutes later, lifted his gaze to chance a look at her, she was looking at him again … or _still_? Snape sneered at her out of habit, shifted uncomfortably in his seat and forced himself to look away and eat. 

* * *

Hermione listened to McGonagall’s welcoming words, smiled at the applause and then turned her gaze toward Snape. The last time she had seen those black eyes … 

Very suddenly, she was back in the Shrieking Shack. The noises of the great hall fell into the background and the surroundings faded.

_The strong smell of blood, and a revolting stench that reminded her of bile, stung in her eyes and nose. The venom. Underneath was the mixture of other unpleasant smells like moulding wood, old piss, rotting leaves and dust._

_Her heart was thudding in her chest, like the hard, steady beat of the Hogwarts Express, because after thinking he was dead, and only going back there to retrieve his body, she had found him still alive. As she had touched the right side of his neck with two fingers, the part that wasn’t a bloody, punctured mess, she had felt his pulse. At first, she had thought it was her own, but it was too thready. His heartbeat was still there, slow, faint, but_ there. 

_She couldn’t explain why, if she had been so sure he was dead, had she brought all those medical supplies? Why had she brought the Advanced Medical Charms book? Why had she …_

_The dittany Harry had put on Snape’s neck must have stemmed the blood flow, and the antivenin they had forced through his pale gray lips seemed to have done some good. Had she been sure he was dead? Not really, there was so much going on, and they didn’t have time for anything …_

_His eyes were glassy and didn’t blink. He had looked dead. Or like death warmed over._

Snapping back to the present, Hermione scrutinised Snape. Now? Merlin, he wasn’t the same man. Now, he looked different from how she’d ever seen him. So much … healthier. 

Hermione’s tongue felt like sandpaper and practically chafed at the roof of her mouth. As she reached for the glass of wine at her plate, she was surprised to see how steady her hand was. She realized she must have been looking at him for a long time, and his gaze fastened upon her. Forcing herself to meet it steadily she looked him over more thoroughly. 

Of course, his face was put together as unfortunately as ever. The overly large nose, the deep groves at the sides of his mouth, the deep crease between his eyes – that were just as penetrating and inky black as they had always been – the sneer … his whole demeanour was the same. But he still looked different. His shoulders were more relaxed, the pallor of his skin not quite so pale. Had he actually been out in the sun? The painfully thin and gaunt look was gone. He had filled out nicely and as far as she could tell, it was all muscle. His hair was longer and went a good bit below his shoulders, still lank and very fine, but not greasy, as though he took better care of himself. Now, that there weren’t two powerful wizards making him dance to their tune. As his gaze suddenly returned to hers, she realized she had continued to stare. His brows knit together, and he suddenly looked just as annoyed with her as he ever did. Hermione smiled. It was good to see him back here at Hogwarts, where he belonged. 

_Good to see him? Snape?_

Now it was Hermione’s turn to knit her brows together. What was that all about? Good to see Snape? Yes, it was good that he was alive and back at Hogwarts where he belonged, but that wasn’t what her thought had indicated. She had meant that it was good to see _him_. His sitting at the Head table gave her a sense of satisfaction she hadn’t expected. And that was a thought she would never speak aloud. To be sure, only thinking it made her feel somewhat uneasy. Then she told herself that so many had died in that battle, and the nights that followed, that it was good to know _someone_ had survived. Someone had been brought back to life. Even if it was Snape. 

Another voice in the back of her head said: _If anyone deserves a second chance at life, it is Severus Snape._

She couldn’t find it in herself to protest that voice even if the thought made her feel uneasy.

 

**FOUR**

Learning from Poppy Pomfrey was everything Hermione could have wished for. Ever since she had helped the healers with as much as she could, at the Battle of Hogwarts, she had realised that healing was what she wanted to do with her life. Seeing Poppy working on the wounded, trying to help, but not knowing enough, having to leave those who weren’t possible to save, Hermione had realised that becoming a healer herself was a way to give back to those who worked so diligently to save so many. 

At the start of term, the students finally arrived and, with them, many and varied illnesses, as well as scrapes and bruises. Curses, minor Quidditch accidents and potions mishaps were commonplace. Weeks went by as Hermione delved deep into practical and theoretical studies in healing, and she was thriving for the first time since the war. The only time she saw Snape was at the meals in the Great Hall. Not that she was noticing, mind you. 

One afternoon, right after Halloween, Hermione and Madam Pomfrey had a young girl come to them after having been hexed. 

“Do you know which diagnostic spell to use for this type of damage, Miss Granger?” Poppy asked while they were eyeing the unfortunate student who had quite obviously been hit with a Tripping Spell, very similar to the Jelly-Legs Jinx, except that this hex made sure that the afflicted tripped over everything possible; a slate in the ground that was a bit uneven, the leg of a chair, her own two feet – and the list went on. 

“I should be fine with a regular hex diagnostic. It doesn’t appear to be any multiple layers, such as a mixture of potions or several spells.” Hermione steered her wand in an intricate series of movements over the girl, then she nodded with a sense of satisfaction. There was just the hex, nothing more. 

“And what is the remedy?” 

“A simple counter spell should do it,” Hermione replied. 

“Do you know which one?”

It grated but Hermione had to admit that she did not. 

“Relax, Miss Granger,” Madam Pomfrey said and smiled benevolently at her. “This is the reason why you are here. Sometimes, finding the right spell in a book takes too long, and is quite frankly, too inconvenient. This is where apprenticeships come in. The value of learning what problems reoccur and how to treat them is much easier if you do an apprenticeship and gain first-hand experience rather than merely studying books. Books won’t tell you what is commonplace and what is not.”

The student lying in the diagnostic bed was beginning to look put upon. Hermione smiled at the girl. 

“While Madam Pomfrey explains what I need to know, I will start to give you a bruise retracting potion. It looks like you have been falling all over yourself most of the day.” A rather spectacular bruise in the middle of her face told the tale quite eloquently. 

“I was hit with the hex last night. Thinking it might go away by itself, I never bothered to come here, but this morning, I fell out of bed and hit my nose on one of the bed posts. It bled for an hour before I could get it to stop and then when …” 

As a Hufflepuff, the girl was thorough in explaining each and every mishap she had gone through all day and Hermione chewed her lip harder and harder not to smile or – Merlin help her – laugh. But it was funny. While she fought her inappropriate wish to smile, she prepared the bruising potion and gave it to the girl, who interrupted her tale for mere seconds to swallow it, and then went on. 

“Who hexed you?” Hermione interrupted the monologue. 

“Mr. Castiel,” replied a rich, velvety voice from behind her. “A third-year Slytherin. He has been dealt with appropriately.” 

Hermione swivelled around to look at Snape, who came closer just to stop at the edge of the bed, looking down at the girl with some small amount of concern on his austere features. It seemed that Snape had changed somewhat after the war. Hermione couldn’t remember him showing concern for anyone but perhaps his favourite Slytherins before. “Are you quite alright, Miss Stevens?”

The girl nodded, but looked miserable at the explanation of who had cast the hex on her. “Why would he do such a thing? I haven’t done anything to him! He keeps inflicting things like that on me. I don’t deserve it!”

“I’m sure it was just a prank,” Poppy tried to soothe the distraught girl. 

“Maybe he is sweet on you?” Hermione said. 

The man in their company snorted inelegantly at her words, but otherwise remained silent. Hermione just shot him a quick look. Unfortunately, the girl blushed furiously, and Hermione regretted her comment and wished that Snape hadn’t been so derisive. 

“The counter-curse?” Hermione reminded the Mediwitch. 

“Yes, well…” 

They discussed the treatment between themselves for a short moment and then Madam Pomfrey allowed Hermione to actually voice the counter-curse. 

While this was going on, Snape waited patiently, and Hermione was wondering what he was waiting for. Professor Snape wasn’t famous for his patience after all and she didn’t think he mistrusted the treatment of his student. 

“Is there anything else we can do for you, Severus?” Madam Pomfrey finally turned her attention to the Potions Master. 

Snape suddenly looked uncomfortable and lifted an eyebrow pointedly at the young girl who was looking at them all expectantly. 

“Ah yes. Miss Stevens, we are done here. You may leave,” Poppy said and they all watched as the girl slid off the diagnostic bed and left the now empty ward. Without tripping on anything. 

Snape still looked uneasy and waited as he lifted his eyebrow again, this time at Hermione. 

“Oh, no, don’t you lift your eyebrow at her, young man. She is my apprentice and any and all medical examinations or treatments necessary are to be executed by both of us until she is fully trained,” Poppy chastised. 

Hermione watched as Snape’s cheeks reddened slightly and he turned his gaze away. 

“Now, tell me what is wrong.”

Snape cleared his throat and then remained silent for a few seconds. Hermione could have giggled when Madam Pomfrey mirrored his lifted eyebrow and waited quietly. She realized that the impulse to giggle was because she was nervous. Why that was, she wasn’t sure. It wasn’t that he was her professor. Two days ago, she had administered a potion for Professor Flitwick and she had felt nothing but empathy for his ails. Nerves never even entered into it. 

“I find myself…that is to say…I am…” Snape cleared his throat again. Hermione almost gasped. She couldn’t remember once in her time at Hogwarts where Snape was at a loss for words. As though cognizant of that fact he pulled himself together and said: “I am experiencing numbness in and around the snake bites and some soreness in my throat. It has happened before, as you know, Poppy, but this time, the remedy is not helping.”

 _That was all?_ After his embarrassed reaction, Hermione had expected him to have some embarrassing form of parasite, or a sexually transmitted disease at the very least. She blushed crimson at the thought and looked away, willing the flush to go down. 

“How long has this been going on?” Pomfrey asked. 

Snape looked somewhat chastised. “It’s been getting worse for the last couple of… weeks.”

“Weeks? You should have come sooner!” Hermione couldn’t help saying. “Those snake bites are nothing to be trifled with.”

Snape sent her a murderous look and she realized she was probably preaching to the choir, but why hadn’t he come in sooner?

“Sit,” Madam Pomfrey ordered with an exasperated sigh. It was clear she was familiar with Snape’s unwillingness to seek medical counsel when needed. “I will let Miss Granger stay with you and get you prepared while I go find some of the other remedies that might be helpful.”

“I think that perhaps…,” Snape began, but Pomfrey waved an impatient hand at him and kept walking. She didn’t even bother to look over her shoulder as she said: “I know as well as you do, Severus, which potions might be helpful in this case.”

“Very well,” Hermione said. “While we wait for Madam Pomfrey to return, you should get out of your clothes.”

Snape looked at her in horror and as Hermione realized how her words sounded, she blushed again. Damn the man who made her nervous at every turn. 

“I beg your pardon.”

Getting herself under control, she sighed impatiently. “Just so I can see your neck. I do realize this might be awkward for both of us, but we might as well get it over with. I am no longer your student and I am here to learn and to become a Mediwitch once my apprenticeship is over. If everyone here would react to me as you do, I would get nothing done.”

“Who is to say that they don’t?” he asked snidely. 

“I’ve had several of the staff in here for various reasons and some of them have been forced to undress for examination. I have yet to hear a single protest.” Hermione now lifted her eyebrow at him. Practical trick that. 

Snape looked back at her, clearly annoyed, as his lips clamped together in a thin line and he rose to his feet.

“Just your robes and your shirt will do,” Hermione said with patience. “Your clothes are way too restricting around your neck to take a proper look at the scarring. We need to make sure there isn’t another deposit of venom in your lymphatic glands that have to be drained again.”

Irritably, Snape started undoing the buttons of his frock at the front. When they were done, he started on the sleeves. Hermione couldn’t look away. For some reason those long-fingered hands were hypnotising as they undid button after button, like some perverted strip-tease where the stripper was forbidding and prickly, rather than cheeky and provocative. The shirt that peeked out between the lapels of his frock was…alluring. 

_Oh my God,_ Hermione thought. _Oh, my dear God. No._

As she struggled to draw her gaze away from him, he suddenly gave her a smirk and pulled off his frock and then started on the buttons of his shirt; a white, pristine, linen dress shirt that hugged his new-found muscles. When he pulled it off, she took in the view of his sinewy form, and the ropy muscles of his arms, and realized that she liked that a lot more than the bulging muscles that Ron sported. Wow. That was new. 

Hermione managed to finally pull herself out of the trance. 

“Sit back down on the diagnostic bed,” she requested and patted on the pristine sheet covering the bed. Could he hear that her voice was just slightly breathless? She hoped not. 

Snape backed up toward the bed and hoisted himself up. Seeing him sit there, wearing only his close fitting black trousers, dragon skin boots and nothing else made Hermione swallow hard. He’d always been an imposing teacher. Now…he was very much a man, and usually she didn’t bat an eyelash. Seeing people undress in her line of work had soon gotten old. 

Hermione steeled herself and moved toward him, almost inside the V of his legs. Thankfully, no matter how nervous she got, her palms never sweated, so her hands were dry and not shaking as she carefully indicated for him to tilt his head to the side. His skin was warm and smooth and so very, very soft. She rested her fingertips just next to the worst of the scars and felt his heartbeat. It was slightly on the quick side, but she didn’t think much of it. Most people didn’t like to see healers, and perhaps he was no exception. The scar she was examining was slightly raised and maybe a little pink, still, but it had healed nicely. Without thinking, she brushed aside the long, black hair that hung over his shoulder and she could see goose bumps raise on his very pale skin. The hair was soft as silk and very fine. Not as greasy as it used to be. Maybe he had more time to keep up his personal hygiene now that he wasn’t pulled in different directions by two very demanding wizards. That thought had never crossed her mind before now. She cleared her throat and willed her voice to be steady. 

_This cannot be happening. It’s insane, Hermione. You are not attracted to Professor Snape, no matter how intelligent he is … or how sexy._

“There are a couple of swollen areas around this scar here.” She indicated one of the larger scars, high up on his neck. “It is evident that the venom has pooled in several places.” 

“I cannot see what you are referring to, Miss Granger,” Snape pointed out in what, for him, was a patient tone of voice. 

“Come.”

She could have chosen a better word. 

Hermione motioned him over to the wall where there was a full-length mirror. His skin underneath hers was warm, and small hairs on his forearms tickled against her fingertips as she pushed him to stand right in front of it and positioned herself beside him. 

_He is so tall. I never noticed he was so much taller than me. Almost a head. If I lean forward, I can rest my head against his shoulder…_

Hermione shook her head minutely, lifted her left hand and pointed toward the areas that were affected. “If you look here, you can see that the areas are swollen. It’s not immediately noticeable since the scars themselves are slightly raised, and the redness is difficult to see since the original scars haven’t paled completely.” 

Leaning forward, Snape turned his head slightly to the side and lifted his hand to the neck where the scars were most prominent. “Are you sure?” he asked. “They seem no different to me than they have been for the last half year or so.”

“Granted, I haven’t treated you before, and I have only seen the wound when it was inflicted upon you,” _a flash of a memory of his neck, bleeding uncontrollably, his eyes going glassy and empty._ “But I have seen many scars over the last year at Mungo’s. You wouldn’t believe how many people come in with curse scars and the like, and it’s made it easier for me to see when there is something amiss. Let me show you.”

Hermione took a step closer and forgot about her uneasiness, the entire situation turning into a medical problem, as it should have been from the get go and since. She lifted her hand again and peered into the mirror with him. “Lean closer. Look at that. Can you see it?”

“Indeed. There are miniscule red lines crisscrossing over the scars here and here.” As he lifted his hand to point to where he meant their fingers brushed together, and Snape inhaled sharply. “What can be done?” He turned around to look her in the eye, rather than the mirror. 

“I don’t believe that potions are the answer this time, Professor Snape. I think that we need to reopen the small areas where the inflammation can be seen – or rather, the venom deposits. I think your body is still fighting the venom, and does so by capsuling it in small areas around the original wounds.”

“I am impressed, Miss Granger. I concur,” Madam Pomfrey said from where she stood, having arrived without either of them noticing her approach. “We have not needed to open the wounds for many months, not since before Severus awakened from his magically induced coma, and catching it now was a good call. I will leave you to it, Miss Granger. I am sure Severus won’t mind.” 

Snape just harrumphed and sat back on the diagnostic bed. “I suggest using a very fine knife and healing the wounds thoroughly after.”

“Really, Professor Snape, you don’t say?” Hermione replied, looking at him as though he had given her the moon. “Actually, it won’t be as easy as that. With this kind of damage and scar tissue, I must, unfortunately, make a deep wound to get to the venom, and that will mean the risk of infection, which in turn might make the scar tissue worse. What I will do is lance the skin with the help of a quite large bore needle.”

If he was pale before, he turned even more so at her words. Hermione hurriedly helped him back to the diagnostic bed before he would faint. “Lie down, Professor. I am sorry for being so blunt, but you have been through so much worse, I didn’t think my telling you would affect you much.”

“I am exceedingly averse to needles,” he pointed out and closed his eyes. Impulsively, Hermione put a comforting hand on his shoulder and pushed him down on the bed. He swallowed hard. 

“I will use a numbing spell. You won’t feel a thing, I promise,” she reassured him. 

Snape harrumphed again and this time, Hermione did laugh. 

 

**FIVE**

“How are your scars feeling?” Hermione asked about a week later when she and Snape found themselves alone in the break room. He was hiding behind the Daily Prophet and had barely acknowledged her when she entered the room. Not that that was unusual. 

“There is no longer any numbness around them,” Snape replied grudgingly and lowered the newspaper, looking at her for the first time in what seemed like days. 

“And the tissue we reopened?” she asked, wanting to know that what they had done had helped. 

“As before, sensation in the scars themselves is dulled, and I doubt it will ever return completely, but they are turning whiter by the day. No signs of infection, just healing.”

Hermione smiled. “Like I said, there are a lot of scar tissue problems at St Mungo’s for many and varied reasons. I’ve learned a spell or two that I can use to heal the scars more thoroughly.”

“Should not the staff of St. Mungo’s have used that on me while I was there?” he asked pointedly. 

“I might have modified one of the spells a little,” Hermione admitted and looked down at her hands. His intense gaze made her…not uncomfortable per se but…something. 

“Modified?” When she looked up she could see the habitual eyebrow rise nearly to his hairline and his black eyes met hers. She thought she saw a hint of interest there. “I’m quite sure if it is this efficient you could earn a few galleons on making it public knowledge.”

Hermione squirmed in her seat at what could only be considered a compliment coming from Snape. Hell, coming from anyone, and yet she felt like it was undeserved. “I haven’t had the chance to test it much. I’ve only been able to do it on myself so far and even though my scars have faded, I still think there is more to be…modified before I have perfected it.”

Snape’s gaze left her, and he folded the newspaper carefully and laid it on the table. Then he put his elbows on his knees and clasped his hands. As he leaned forward, he was near enough for her to touch him. Why would she want to anyway? 

_His skin was so smooth and pale…perfect._

“And now you have tried it on me,” he purred. 

“May I see?” The words were out of her mouth before she could think. Her eagerness to see the scars had even pulled her out of whatever strange state she had entered. 

He, on the other hand, seemed a little uncomfortable at the question and he pulled back, stretching his long legs in front of him, his feet almost close enough to brush against hers. She had never thought to notice how long his legs were, how nicely those black trousers hugged his slim, long, limbs. 

“I’m sorry, Professor,” she murmured and swallowed. What a spectacularly bad idea for her to even ask. “I’ve made you uneasy. It wasn’t my intention. I shouldn’t have asked,” Again, Hermione averted her eyes, looking at anything other than him. Why was she so odd around him? He had always been able to make her feel bad, but not like this. Not uncomfortable, or on edge. The number of times during her school years that he had made her feel angry or hurt couldn’t be counted, but this was different. It was almost as though she was attracted to him. 

This wasn’t the first time a similar thought had tried to cross her mind and she had ruthlessly shut it down. Now she seemed unable to. It was much easier when they just worked around each other and didn’t see much of one another. She had tried to hold on to that, but sometimes it just wasn’t possible. Like now. 

“Ah, this is ridiculous!” he snarled, rose to his feet and started undoing the clasps of his robes. “It’s not as though you haven’t seen another man before and you have seen this wound when it looked much worse.” His voice was low and determined. It reverberated through her like an echo of something rich, delicious and maybe just a tiny bit dangerous. 

“You don’t have to,” she hurriedly interrupted and lifted her hands to halt his motion. “You can come to the infirmary and show me the scars later, when you have time.”

“I have time now,” he stated, and continued his unbuttoning as though she hadn’t said a word. 

_Oh, dear lord._ What if someone came in and saw them? 

He took off his robes, hung them over the back of his chair in an elegant motion. Then he pulled the shirt out of his trousers, and started unbuttoning it, from the bottom up. 

“It’s enough if you open the shirt at the neck,” she informed him, with a suddenly very dry mouth. Did she really want to see all that pale, smooth skin again? 

_Yes_. 

But she had to be professional and there was never going to be anything between them. She might as well shove that thought out of her mind right now. 

“Oh, right,” he said and did as she asked, pulling the fabric aside for her to be able to take a good look at the scars at his neck. He was right. They had paled significantly over the past week. The spell was such that it continued working for a few days after having been cast. 

“It looks different, does it not?” he said apprehensively, as though needing confirmation. 

“It does,” she agreed. 

Their heads were mere inches apart and she could feel his breath ghosting over her cheek and her neck. It sent tingling sensations through her body all the way to her core and she was getting very aroused. From only standing beside a half-dressed Snape. 

_This is not happening!_

The thought of him undressing should have dispelled any notion of attraction, but it only made things worse. Without even being conscious of what she was doing, she lifted her hand and pulled a fingertip across one of the most prominent scars. It was most definitely less obvious than it had been. Again, his skin was dry and soft underneath her fingertip. Not at all the way it had been in the shack. Back then it had been cold, clammy and so grey. Without realizing it, her touch had gone from curiosity to a caress. 

He froze at her touch, and then pulled away. Hermione sucked in a breath as though she’d been holding it for far too long. Their eyes darted to the other’s and then swiftly away as though not wanting to acknowledge what was crackling between them. At least that’s how Hermione interpreted the look he gave her before averting his gaze. Of course, Snape might not even be aware. He might just think she was the stupid bint that had been the annoying know-it-all in his class for six years. 

Quickly, efficiently, he put his shirt to rights, and the sight of it was incredibly intimate in such a public space. Hermione couldn’t look away as he pushed the shirt tails down his trousers, and rebuttoned his shirt. Her fingers were still burning from the memory of his skin and she felt as though they had done something far more than touch. With a racing heart Hermione finally admitted to herself that she wanted Severus Snape. Very much. 

 

**SIX**

_Pathetic, and ugly, old fool._

_She touched you because she wanted to see your scars, because she wanted to know if the modified spell did the work it was supposed to do. Not because she wanted to, and certainly not because she wants you. She even tried to get out of it and you, as the lumbering fool you are, forced the issue._

Undressing in front of attractive young women wasn’t something he was used to. And it was something he most definitely didn’t seek out to do, but in this case, he had needed to know the truth. Was it only his imagination or had the scars shrunk, paled and in some smaller cases, even dissipated? The need to know had been greater than the need to stay hidden under his restricting robes. 

Snape shoved the thoughts away and proceeded to do what he always did when life was getting too uncomfortable, or when thoughts were too insistent. He walked over to the glass cabinet just to the right of his kitchen entrance and poured himself a couple of fingers of Firewhisky. Downing the liquid, he poured another helping. He might as well bring the bottle. Usually he would also choose something interesting to read. Books had always been his friends, even when he had no others. 

He took another swig and the Firewhisky burned down his throat, settling like a comforting heat in his stomach, and dulling the edges of his mind. He breathed out and couldn’t help smiling at the smoke that he exhaled. Relaxing a little, he rested the cold glass against his forehead and let his mind wander. Being drunk was something he rarely indulged in, because working with the volatile and poisonous components he often did, and having the Dark Lord hanging over his head, getting drunk would have been a death sentence. And Snape had come to realize that whatever else, he had not wanted to die. Had he expected it? Yes, he had even resigned himself to it. 

Then – enter Hermione Granger. For the first time. 

Now, she had entered his life for a second time – or third, if you counted her years as a student of course. 

This time, ever since Hermione Granger had returned to Hogwarts, that sense of comfort and lightness he had first felt when he returned was gone. It wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, because for the first time since he was a teenager, he felt alive, brimming with energy and ideas and … desires. He hadn’t felt like this since … since Lily. 

Hermione’s touch. 

At first it had merely been her fingertips, tracing the outlines of the scars she had treated, and he hadn’t though much of it. Then she had bitten her lip, as she had done when she was a student; a nervous habit perhaps. But what had she to be nervous about?

_Except being ogled by her twice her age, ugly as sin, cantankerous Potions professor?_

But as she bit her lip, the touch had turned into what he could have sworn was a caress. While he watched, she had looked dazed, and slightly flushed. The white blouse she had worn was pulled tight over her breasts. Very full, nicely shaped breasts. The pleasure he had felt at that view and her touch had gone straight to his groin. He’d had to pull away and quickly before he did something he would really have to regret. 

Snape closed his eyes. Of all the people he could have become attracted to, it had to be Hermione Granger? If it weren’t so fucking sad, he would have laughed. 

Being a Death Eater wasn’t conducive to relationships, or anything even remotely resembling love or even friendship. So, he had none. Sex? Yes. As much as he wanted, whenever he wanted. He knew how to go about making it a splendid experience well enough, and knew that most women left his bed, thoroughly satisfied, but that was just scratching an itch. Now, for the first time in twenty years he could have more. He could settle down without worrying that his companion would be murdered or tortured, or used against him. So, for the first time in his adult life, companionship, friendship and perhaps even love could be within his reach. 

Snape swallowed another mouthful of Firewhisky, and maybe it was the alcohol that did it, but he could finally admit the truth to himself; he was attracted to Hermione Granger. He could have a real life – and it scared him to death.


	2. Chapter 2

**CHAPTER 2**

**ONE**

Severus Snape walked through the hallways of Hogwarts, feeling restless. He listened to his own footsteps echoing through the empty hallways. The only other sounds were the soft snoring of sleeping portraits and his own breathing. 

All that lit up his trek through a sleeping Hogwarts was his wand. These rounds were familiar, and he was used to being an insomniac. Sleep never gave him the rest he needed, and it seldom came without debilitating nightmares. Nightmares about Lily, about Voldemort, about Susan Burbage, about Dumbledore – and Nagini. 

Tonight, it had been the dream about Nagini. The all-encompassing terror he had felt when she struck would be with him to his dying day. He’d been ready to die, but not like that. 

He used to like snakes. He’d even owned a pet boa constrictor when he was younger. Now, he couldn’t lay eyes on a serpent without breaking into a cold sweat. Images of striking snakes were the worst. It brought back memories with such clarity that he wished he could Obliviate himself.

His unpleasant thoughts were interrupted by a sudden noise from the floor below. He could hear Hagrid’s unmistakable heavy footfalls and then voices. Madam Pomfrey and Hagrid. Did that woman never sleep? Snape turned on his heel toward the stairs leading to the floor below and strode purposefully toward the hospital ward. 

“What’s going on?” he demanded. 

“Oh, Severus. How good, you are here. I was just about to send a house-elf to fetch you,” said Madam Pomfrey.

Snape nearly smirked at the sight of her. She was wearing a long, cotton nightshirt and thick slippers with floppy ears. He suspected they were supposed to be rabbits. On her head she was wearing a night cap with frills, and her gray hair hung in a thick braid over her left shoulder. 

“Explain,” he admonished her. 

“Hagrid has taken ill,” she answered. 

“And the thestrals are birthing,” said the half-giant and promptly sneezed. His eyes were puffy and red and his nose runny. The color of his face was distinctly paler than normal, and he was sweating bullets. Hagrid looked as miserable as he possibly could. So, the influenza had claimed yet another victim. 

“What has that got to do with me?” asked Snape, although he already suspected the answer. 

“Well, as you can see, Hagrid here can’t take care of them. He can barely stand and thestral birthings are notorious for being difficult. There’s a reason why they are nearly extinct,” Madam Pomfrey explained as though speaking to a small child. She smiled curtly at Snape as he took the giant’s other arm to help them toward the infirmary. 

“Obviously,” Snape huffed. 

“Now, you go and wake Miss Granger, so the two of you can watch over the thestrals and be of assistance if they need it.”

“Why would I bring her?” Snape asked incredulously as he let go of Hagrid’s arm.

Pomfrey gave him an impatient look over her shoulder while she helped the half-giant move into the hospital ward. “Hang on, Hagrid, I just need to transfigure a bed for you.” Hagrid sneezed and sniffled thickly. The half-giant practically swayed on his feet and Snape backed off to a safe distance. There was nothing he could do if Hagrid fell. He’d be squashed like a bug for his efforts. 

Waving her wand, Poppy transfigured a bed large enough to house one pitiful half-giant, then turned to Snape again. “You should bring Miss Granger because she has medical knowledge that you don’t; I need to take care of Hagrid, and she can’t do it alone. You’re the best person to help her. She might need a strong man to help her if a foal gets stuck.”

Snape ran his fingers through his hair. Good thing he’d already been awake apparently. Well, sleep was for the weak anyway. 

 

**TWO**

_Knock, knock, knock_

“Wha…?” Hermione turned around, smacked her dry lips together and pulled a pillow over her head. She must have dreamt that someone knocked on her door. It could _not_ be time to get up already. She’d just barely fallen asleep, she was sure of it. 

_Knock, knock, knock._

“Go away!” Having worked a double shift in the infirmary due to the insanely virulent and thoroughly debilitating influenza of this season, she needed her sleep. 

“Miss Granger, wake up! You are needed.”

Suddenly, Hermione sat bolt upright in her bed and was wide-awake. Was that… _Snape’s_ voice she heard? What had happened? Had the venom started building up again? Was he hurt? Why wasn’t he in the Hospital Ward if there was something wrong?

“Miss Granger!” 

“Hang on, I’m on my way,” Hermione said. She’d meant to call out, but her voice was a raspy croak at best. Clearing her throat, she repeated the words loud enough to be heard. 

Crookshanks lay on the pillow beside hers. The half-kneazle lifted an eyelid and glared at her for disturbing his beauty sleep, but promptly closed it and went back to sleep. There was no way he was getting out of bed before eight a.m. when his food was to be served. 

“Make haste!” Snape called through the door, sounding as impatient as ever. 

“You can bloody well wait,” Hermione muttered and shuffled to the door, lowered the wards and opened it, revealing Professor Snape – in his full regalia. Crossly, she wondered if he was always up and about. Didn’t he ever dress in a pair of pyjama pants and lounge about, reading? Did he ever sleep? Oddly enough, the thought of Snape in pyjama pants made her brain screech to a halt. 

As was his habit, he swooped inside, as though he owned the place, robes billowing. Hermione felt like her living quarters just shrunk to the size of a small cupboard because of the way that he took up all the space in the room. 

Belatedly Hermione realised that she might not be appropriately dressed for visitors – especially not male ones. He looked at her and his gaze wandered from her unruly hair to the nightshirt she wore, down her bare legs and finally to her feet. Hermione could have sworn the look he gave her felt like a caress. When their gazes met his eyes sparkled with something, and she suddenly felt very naked. She flushed.

All she had on now was a ratty, huge t-shirt that had once belonged to Ron, the print of the _Chudley Cannons_ only a pale afterimage anymore. She wasn’t even wearing any knickers. Knowing her hair, it probably looked like she’d put her finger in an electrical socket. 

“Why are you here?” she finally managed when realizing it was only one a.m. She literally _had_ just fallen asleep. Leaning forward carefully so as not to give Snape a full view of her backside – and more – she bundled up her clothes, assuming that she was needed elsewhere and probably should be appropriately dressed. 

“Apparently, the thestrals are birthing,” 

“Um, right, I’ll just get…dressed…if you’ll excuse me.” Hastily, Hermione walked down the hall. “You said thestrals – as in more than one,” she shouted from the bathroom. 

“I assure you, I have no idea. Hagrid wasn’t clear about how many foals he was expecting. Neither was Poppy for that matter,” he replied. 

“Thestrals do tend to give birth close together, but I doubt the entire flock would give birth in one night. Why isn’t Hagrid or Madam Pomfrey tending to them?”

Snape crossed his arms over his chest in a defensive stance and looked around her small flat, as though he would rather be anywhere else. “Hagrid has fallen ill with the blasted influenza that is plaguing Hogwarts, and Poppy had to take care of him. As you know, the ward is nigh on full. As I was there, she roped me into this babysitting exercise.”

Hermione shouted over her shoulder. “As well she should have. The number of thestrals in this country – in the entire world really – is declining steadily. And they often have difficult births.”

Snape lifted an eyebrow. “So, if this is such a momentous occasion, why do they leave it in the care of Hagrid? Granted, he has a good hand with animals, but surely a trained healer for animals would be preferable to him – and especially us?”

Finished dressing, Hermione stepped out of the bathroom, feeling much better about herself. Having tied her hair in a loose ponytail, she looked at the professor. “Hagrid has more experience with magical creatures than anyone else in Britain and thestrals are very dear to his heart. He must be devastated at not being able to be there.” Nerves set her heart racing and she bit her lip. This was the first time she would be doing such an important task on her own. Madam Pomfrey had always been there to back her up before. Although, Snape wasn’t too bad as backup either, she supposed, even though he wasn’t a trained Healer. 

“Are you all right, Miss Granger?” he asked curtly, moving toward the door now that she was dressed and ready for their task. She pulled a cloak from a hanger by the door and they stepped out together. 

“I’m fine…or…maybe not. I just worry that we won’t be able to do a good job of this. I’ve never even seen a thestral birthing before. How am I going to be able to help?” Hermione’s heart thudded harder in her chest as the magnitude of the task hit her. What if she … what if they … messed this up? Failure was something that had always bothered her, and she did everything she could to avoid it. But this wasn’t just failing a test that she could retake; there were lives at stake and was therefore so very important. Hermione almost felt sick to her stomach.

“You’re a Healer at least. Surely there are similarities to a human birth,” he said with a low voice that was oddly reassuring. 

“I’m sure there are, but I’m not studying to become a midwife,” she retorted. “What about you? Why did Madam Pomfrey send for you?”

“I’m sure I don’t know,” Snape sneered. 

 

**THREE**

Snape watched as Hermione trudged along in the snow. It was still falling in big, fluffy flakes from the midnight sky, and their footprints left a trail in the pristine, white surface as they moved toward the animal shelters at the outskirts of the Forbidden Forest. The snow muffled the sounds of the world around them, and all that could be heard was their breathing and the slight creaking of the snow under their boots. 

Snape could barely keep his eyes off the woman at his side. She looked like a young girl with the knitted cap and mittens and her hair sticking out from under the cap. The thought made him feel distinctly uneasy. She was so very young. Had she even turned twenty? Why had his libido latched onto this youthful creature? Except that she was intelligent, beautiful and…sexy. The image of her standing nearly naked in front of him was etched into his brain. She was the most alluring sight he had seen in a very long time, if ever. 

Snape pushed the thoughts away, trying instead to focus on the task at hand. If he were to be perfectly honest, he wasn’t looking forward to this. Taking care of animals – or humans for that matter – hadn’t been his forte in many years and few knew it ever had been. Nowadays, Snape preferred his animals dead and prepared as potions ingredients. Honestly, he hoped that Granger would be able to handle everything by herself, but if she did end up needing help, he was determined to be of use. 

“They’re in the stables, right?” Hermione wondered. “Is that it?” She pointed at the nearest building. 

“I believe that’s where the ruddy Cerberus is. The ceiling is certainly high enough. The thestrals are in that one over there,” he told her, and pointed toward a larger building a bit further in among the trees. “There’s a corral attached over there as well.”

As they passed the first building with the high roof, Snape could hear music spilling out from within; Fluffy’s snoring was nearly drowning out the melody. He had no wish to wake the three-headed dog. As he still had the scar on his right leg to show for his initial run-in with the beast, one safely could say that they weren’t the best of friends.

They walked past Fluffy’s habitat and approached the second building. It was rectangular with a slanted copper roof, and the walls seemed to be made of pinewood with several divided areas for the thestrals. As they came closer, it was obvious that all the animals save one – presumably the stallion – were inside. One thestral stuck its head out over the half-door and gave a sound that was like a ghostly echo of a horse whinnying. It made the hairs on Snape’s arms stand on end. 

“Look,” whispered Hermione and leaned toward him to point at the stallion. Snape had of course been able to see the thestrals for most of his life, but he never really _looked_. “Isn’t he beautiful?”

Snape drew in a lungful of air and the scent of lilies of the valley wafted toward him. Was that her? Shampoo? Perfume? How ironic she would smell of lilies. 

“Beautiful is not the word I would use, no,” Snape said. 

The animals were black as spilt oil, and skeletal, with hides that were glossy and smooth over the bony bodies. Thestrals bore a passing resemblance to winged horses, and that perhaps accounted for the words “stallion” and “mare” being used to describe the two genders, but to be frank, Snape thought they resembled dragons just as much as any other creature. It was as though Pegasus and a dragon had mated and spawned the thestrals. 

Hermione opened the door to the rectangular shed and stepped inside, Snape following suit. He was not about to risk her being trampled by these wild creatures. Perhaps they were trained to pull Hogwarts’ carriages, and perhaps they were somewhat domesticated, but he knew that thestrals, if threatened, could be incredibly vicious. Another one gave up that ghostly whinnying noise and again, Snape shuddered. 

“It doesn’t look like any of them have gone into labour yet,” Hermione said and walked among the animals, petting one here and one there. “Several of them are sure to give birth very soon, though,” she continued, drawing one mitten-free hand across the oily black and very taut midsection of a thestral. The mare turned her head toward Hermione and lowered it to sniff at her hand, as though expecting something edible. When she found nothing, she snorted and buffed Hermione to scratch behind the horns on her head. 

“I thought you didn’t know anything about thestral birthing,” Snape said. 

“Not any more than I’ve read.”

Snape almost laughed. “I believe that.”

He watched as she continued to familiarise herself with the animals and moved further into the flock. They all seemed to have gathered around two of the mares and Hermione nodded. “These must be the ones Hagrid was talking about,” she said with certainty. “The rest of the flock gather around to protect her during her birthing so that she won’t be in danger.”

“I wonder what it is about the thestrals that make their births so difficult?” Snape seldom asked questions and preferred to find the answers himself, but since there were no books readily available around the stables… 

“Many animals have horns, cloves, beaks, hooves and other body parts that become sharp and harden once they are born, but thestrals are different. They’re mostly just made up of bone with unusually strong muscles and sinew, and very little body fat. A thestral foal can tear its mother apart from the inside if it’s birthed the wrong way, causing them both to die,” Hermione explained.

“That hardly sounds like nature intended it,” Snape observed. 

Hermione nodded absentmindedly. It was obvious to Snape that all her focus was on the mare standing closest to them. Sweeping one hand along the protruding ribs, she crooned softly. It was a strange view; such a skeletal body, but with the gravid belly of being with child. “Is it time, love? Are you having contractions?”

The thestral gave a snort that reminded him more of a boar than a horse and moved around restlessly on the ground. It was obvious that Hagrid had been expecting the births because the ground in the building was filled with clean straw, enough to allow the thestrals to rest comfortably. 

“She’s having contractions, I think. Come closer, Professor,” she admonished. 

Reluctantly, he did as she asked. 

“Here.” Hermione took his hand and laid it against the side of the mare. Snape felt like he had been branded, her small hand was warm and soft against his skin. She touched him effortlessly, as though she didn’t give it a second thought. Need coursed through his body and he hardened so fast he almost felt dizzy. Oh, how he wanted her. 

_Foolishness._

Snape swallowed. 

“Can you feel it moving?” she asked and didn’t remove her hand from his, but pushed it lightly along the flank of the thestral who let out another one of those boar-like sounds. Snape realised it coincided with the mare’s sides pulling taut as a contraction rippled through her body. 

Bringing out her wand, Snape watched as Hermione ran diagnostic charms on the animal. She studied them for a while and seemed pleased. “It’s only just begun,” she informed and turned toward him. Quite suddenly, they were standing side by side, much closer than Snape had realised. Again, that delicate scent of lilies of the valley wafted toward him and he inhaled deeply. She smelled wonderful. 

_It’s been too long since I’ve been with a woman._ He ached for her. _And she is beautiful – but so bloody young._

His reaction to her scent and her closeness was visceral. Without even realizing it, he moved closer to get more of her scent, to get closer to that curly, rambunctious hair, to touch more of her soft skin, to taste her lips… He’d been thinking about her so much lately and for the first time ever, they were alone together without any risk of being interrupted by someone entering a room where they were. Being this close to her was such a temptation. His lips tingled with the need to kiss her, his hands wanted to touch her, and his body was so ready for her. 

“Oh, here we go,” muttered Hermione, completely unaware of his plight, as the mare went to her knees, laying down. “It’s time.”

Snape closed his eyes for a moment and then forced himself back into the reality around them, away from the dangerous thoughts that had nearly caught him in their grip. He was lucky she was totally oblivious to his near faux pas. 

It didn’t take long before the mare gave birth to a small thestral foal. It was a little colt. The birth went perfectly smoothly, the mare rising from the ground mere minutes after the foal’s foetal membrane had been licked away. Giving a small cry, the foal dove for the food he knew how to find under his mother’s belly. 

“Well, that was anticlimactic.” Snape scowled at the thestral mare eating the bloody mess that was the afterbirth. Knowing that the defence mechanism was the way of nature didn’t make it any less disgusting, he thought. 

“Oh, hush, you,” chided Hermione. “Don’t jinx it. We still have at least another mare who will foal tonight. Look at that one.”

A second thestral was being protected by the flock, and restlessly walked around in circles. Stopping, she scraped one hoof on the ground, turning over the straw, and then started circling again. Once more, Hermione ran the diagnostic charms and scrutinised them for a while. 

“It isn’t time just yet,” she told him. 

The mare kept going around in circles for some time, and Hermione pulled over a bale of straw and sat down on it. 

“Here, have a seat, Professor, it appears we’re going to be here for a while. I’ve never heard of a thestral birth going as quickly as the one we just witnessed. I imagine this one will be closer to the norm.” 

Snape paced for a while, ignoring her invitation to sit. If he took her up on the offer, he wasn’t sure he would be able to keep his hands to himself; he had no wish to add ‘handsy lecher’ to his list of crimes. 

It was utterly disconcerting how quickly Hermione crumbled all his defences just by being near. He had never reacted this way to another woman, let alone someone who had once been his student. Snape’s sense of propriety wouldn’t let him look at the young women under his care as sexual beings, and that attitude lingered for years after they had graduated from Hogwarts. Truth be told, Snape didn’t think he had ever bedded a woman that had once been his student. 

And yet, here he was, with Hermione Granger, who was barely out of Hogwarts and he just wanted to… _wanted_ her. 

“Come on, Professor. It’s cold and we could keep each other warm while we wait.” As though wanting to emphasise her words, she shuddered and rubbed her hands together. She pulled down the knitted cap another centimetre and it made her look even younger. 

_Merlin help me. She’s barely an adult, and I just want to wrap those shapely legs around my waist and bury myself in her hot and tight pussy. I’m such a lewd old bastard,_ Snape thought with a hefty measure of self-loathing. 

Eventually, the mare was ready to lie down on the straw and begin the birthing. Hermione rose again and moved closer to the animal, but the creature hissed at her and bared her teeth. 

“Easy there, love,” Hermione said softly. “We’re just here to help. I won’t hurt you. Shhh. Easy, girl.”

Snape felt decidedly useless. Wasn’t that what all fathers said when their partners were giving birth? And where did _that_ thought come from? 

_Bollocks._ Why had he joined her? Why had Poppy been so insistent he accompany her? Surely, she knew nothing of his past, of how horses had been such a big part of his childhood. This wouldn’t be the first animal birth he had witnessed, but his experiences were such a long time ago and he had put them squarely behind him. Memories of horses were so painfully mixed in with his memories of Lily and he had pushed them far down in his mind. Now, it seemed he should bring them to the fore, but all he could think about were dirty thoughts about Hermione. Keeping his mind on the matter at hand seemed nigh on impossible. 

 

**FOUR**

“She’s not progressing,” Hermione informed him a long time later as she ran several diagnostic charms over the mare. Snape had finally given in and sat down, and she was grateful for the warm presence beside her. The December air was decidedly cold, even with warming charms and shelter from the snow and wind. The animals themselves didn’t give much heat since their body temperature was much lower than a human’s. 

Hermione rose to her feet, heedless of the cold and the stiffness in her limbs. It must have been at least two hours since the second thestral mare had started having contractions and the pitiful thing just stood there listlessly, with her head low and eyes half-lidded. 

“Something is clearly wrong,” Snape announced, and for the first time, Hermione saw him go near the thestrals willingly. 

“There, there,” he crooned. 

_That voice… dear God in heaven, that voice!_ Hermione shivered, but not from the cold. _Honey, dark chocolate, burnt sugar…_

Snape didn’t even look at Hermione as his long-fingered hands moved carefully along the side of the thestral’s flank. The mare let him touch her without flinching or making a sound. Those elegant hands were so gentle and spoke of a different Snape than the professor Hermione grew up with. Someone that she had yet to know, but she fervently hoped she would get the chance. 

“You’ll be all right,” he murmured softly into the thestral’s ear. She turned her head toward him and blinked, and he petted her skeletal face, calming her. “Trust me, girl, I’ll see that you come out of this safely.”

Hermione stood by watching as he pulled off his cloak and over coat. It was cold as a brass monkey outside, but he didn’t seem to notice as he rolled up the arms of his shirt to his elbows and stood behind the thestral. “I’m thinking your little one hasn’t turned correctly,” he said conversationally and petted the thestral on its back. “I’m going to see if I can turn her or him around. Hermione, calm her if you can. This is going to hurt, and I hope I won’t tear her to pieces inside.”

Snape’s voice was now very tight and strained.

Hermione nodded and did as he asked. “How do you know all this?” she asked. “You didn’t seem to know much about thestrals earlier.”

“I don’t,” Snape replied in a low voice. “I have a lot more experience with horses. When I was younger, Lily and I used to ride. Close to where we grew up, there was a horse breeding stable. We practically lived there for years. If we helped clean out the stables, or do other chores, we could ride the horses. While there, I witnessed many births, and also helped with quite a few. More than once, I helped turning a foal. Teaching me how to do it meant not having to call the veterinarian, I suppose. I imagine this is not much different.”

The mare snorted and pushed her head into Hermione’s stomach, as though she understood that they were trying to help. The rest of the flock circled around them, the other new-born and its mother standing the closest, watching intently. Hermione petted the mare and whispered nonsensical words in the hopes of keeping her calm and safe. 

_Please, let us save them, _Hermione prayed silently.__

__She stared over the mare’s back and saw only the top of Snape’s head, the inky black hair falling into his eyes as he stood with his hand deep inside the thestral’s birth canal._ _

__“I have to time moving the foal to the second,” Snape said tightly as he lifted his head and met Hermione’s gaze. “The contractions are very strong, but the birth isn’t progressing.”_ _

__“I imagine she’s getting exhausted by the pain,” Hermione murmured. The mare gave that ghostly whinnying sound again, and the flock replied in kind. Then she grunted and gave something that almost sounded like a cry._ _

__“How’s it going, Professor Snape?” she called. Petting the thestral once, she moved to the back to see what was going on. “Do you need help?” she asked._ _

__“There’s not a lot you can do right now,” he admitted. “I am stronger than you and it’s going to take both strength and timing to turn this foal around. Oh, here she goes again,” he groaned as there was another contraction. “Gods, she could break my arm if I am not careful.”_ _

__Hermione watched as his arm moved with purpose; his face was strained, and he was sweating. Hair fell into his eyes, and Hermione stepped forward to push it away. It was such an intimate gesture, and she shivered at the touch. He glanced up at her quickly, but went back to his task almost immediately._ _

__“Right. One more turn. I think I’ve got it. Merlin, those bones really are sharp. I don’t understand how they don’t tear themselves apart.”_ _

__“The womb is not as fragile in thestrals as it is in other animals,” Hermione said. “If it were, there wouldn’t be any more of them.”_ _

__“I imagine not. Here comes another one.” Snape worked hard to turn the foal around and he grunted in exertion. “It’s not like a horse,” he muttered. “Horses are much easier.”_ _

__“Is it getting there?” Hermione asked._ _

__There was no reply and she swallowed hard at the implications of that silence. There wasn’t much she could do to assist except try to keep the increasingly restless animal calm. She moved back to the head. As Snape worked, the mare hissed, and her teeth snapped an inch from Hermione’s face. Flinching, she still didn’t move away. Instead, Hermione put her hand on the mare’s muzzle and petted soothingly._ _

__“There, girl. Don’t bite. We’re just trying to help. I know it hurts bad. Are you wishing for Hagrid? Yes, I know, you know Hagrid. You love Hagrid. We all do, but we’re his friends and he sent us here to take care of you now that he couldn’t. You’ll be fine. You’ll just see. Professor Snape is very good with his hands, he’ll take care of you.”_ _

___‘Professor Snape is very good with his hands’… Wouldn’t she like to know how good he really was with his hands?_ She was going barmy. There was nothing for it. _ _

__The thestral abruptly pulled her head away and reared, giving off a shrieking whinny sounding more like an actual horse than a thestral at that moment. This time, Hermione backed off, wary of the waving hooves that were only a foot or so away from her face._ _

__“How is it going, Professor?” she called again._ _

__This time, she was met with a haggard looking glance from Severus Snape. Having pulled out of the thestral when she reared, his arms were bloody all the way up to his elbows, and his shirt would never be the same again. In fact, she doubted if any of his clothes were salvageable. Bloody hell, she’d buy him a new set of robes if only he managed to save the birthing thestral and its foal._ _

__“I think I managed to turn the foal around, but I’m not sure how much damage was done inside the womb. Now she should be able to give birth, at least.” Snape wiped his hands off on his trousers, seeming almost surprised at the amount of blood on his arms and clothes._ _

__As they stood there, the mare finally went to her knees and laid down on the pile of straw she had accumulated earlier. With the foal in the correct position, it was clear that the second birth of the night would go off without further delay._ _

__“What if she does have internal injuries?” Hermione asked worriedly. ”There must be something I can do...” Thinking back at the past months, and the healing charms she had learned, she furrowed her brow. “There was a charm I used when we had to remove an appendix on one of the students back in October. That healing charm should work here as well, shouldn’t it?”_ _

__“I would think you are more capable of answering that question than I am, Miss Granger,” Snape said tiredly. “You do know the _Vulnera Sanentur,_ don’t you? I have never tried it on an animal before. I suspect it ought to be the same, however.”_ _

__“I have never cast that particular charm before,” Hermione admitted._ _

__Snape moved over to his frock and took out his wand. “If I heal this mare, she might not ever be able to bear a foal again. Considering how few thestrals there are, it might not be a good thing.”_ _

__“If you don’t, she might die,” Hermione pointed out logically. “The healing charm that I know is no better.”_ _

__Snape nodded and lifted his wand hand._ _

___*Vulnera Sanentur,”_ he sang, and his magic swirled around the mare as he repeated the charm over and over again. _ _

__As the rich tones of his vibrant voice washed over Hermione, she knew that her attraction to this man was growing stronger by the day, and she had no idea what to do about it._ _


	3. Chapter 3

**CHAPTER 3**

_Every day that you wait you're falling faster_  
_No sleight of hand, no twist of fate,_  
_No ever after_  
_When it's gone - it's gone,_  
_a fight to the bitter end_  
_Life won't wait for you_  
_No, life won't wait for you, my friend._

_“Life Won’t Wait” by Ozzy Osbourne. © 2010, “Scream”_

 

**ONE**

Hermione spotted Harry and Ginny across the length of the ballroom, right by the bar. Ginny was chatting animatedly with her older brother, Charlie, and Harry stood quietly, merely smiling lovingly at his wife. Hermione’s heart skipped a beat when he saw that look on his face. His and Ginny’s love for one another was strong and deep, with just enough of bite in it to keep matters challenging. Indeed, their relationship was exactly what Hermione wanted, and when pressed, she could admit that she was just a tiny bit envious. Not that she begrudged them their love – it was just that her two friends had quickly found what she was longing for, and had happily settled into newlywed bliss. 

Carefully, Harry took the glass from his wife’s oblivious hands – likely to stop wine from sloshing over the rim and staining her dress. Ginny looked resplendent tonight in a forest green, knee length dress with pearl embroidery and lace in the top. The tulle skirt flared from her tiny waist down to her knees, reminding Hermione of something a ballerina would wear. 

If Ginny and Charlie had arrived, it meant that probably Ron and the rest of the Weasleys weren’t very far away either. Not that she cared…much. Apparently in the last couple of months she had moved on from having a liking for a muscular redhead to a dark-haired and mysterious older man. Hermione sighed and took a few steps down the stairs. It was unlikely that there was another man any more unsuitable for Hermione than Severus Snape; naturally, she had latched onto him faster than an owl to a biscuit. 

_Snape, standing in the staff room, pulling his shirt tails out of his trousers._ Hermione shivered at the flashback. 

_Snape’s black eyes filled with lust, looking at her across the back of a thestral giving birth._

The idea of Snape as a man – as _that_ kind of man – still boggled her mind. He’d just always been her teacher and an authority figure in her life. And yet… 

It almost went without saying that Snape would think her too young and inexperienced for any sort of relationship. If she had managed to wrestle any kind of substantive emotion out of him since her arrival at Hogwarts, it was at best, annoyance, but more likely a jaded indifference, which felt far worse. Hermione tried to shake off the sadness she felt at the thought that she might be insignificant to the brooding Slytherin. She hadn’t exactly been looking forward to the Yule ball, and her being here was just because Shacklebolt required her to be, but she was determined to have fun since that’s what the Yule Ball was all about. The Ministry pulled out all the stops once each year and this time was no exception. 

The room was filled with familiar and unfamiliar faces. All the Weasleys of course, Headmistress McGonagall and the other professors from Hogwarts were there but there was also Luna and Neville, already dancing away the night. Many people from the Ministry, not just Shacklebolt, were present as well – everyone who had been involved in the war and survived. 

A wolf whistle sounded across the crowd, the noise completely unexpected in such a formal setting, and it pulled her out of her reverie. Locating the miscreant, Hermione saw that it was George Weasley. Dismissively, she turned away; whatever the hoopla was about, it had nothing to do with her.

“Oi, hold it, Granger!” George bellowed. “You’re under the mistletoe. You know the rules for the evening. You’ve got to kiss the man standing next to you,” he reminded her. “Or rather, the man closest to you gets the golden opportunity to kiss _you._ ” He sounded almost wistful as Hermione smiled weakly and glanced up. Sure enough, there was the mass of magical mistletoe she had long heard about. According to popular rumour, it always floated about at the Ministry Yule Ball seeking to create chaos. Hermione sighed internally. Of course, the first time she partook in the festivities, she would be targeted. Realising that she would have to be a good sport about this, she braced herself. What harm would it do anyway? It would be a quick kiss with a stranger, or someone she knew only superficially, and that would hardly leave any permanent scars on her psyche.

_Right._

Except when she turned to see who might be the lucky bastard, it became apparent that the man standing closest to her was Professor Severus Snape. A shiver ran down her spine and made her nerves tingle. As usual, he was dressed all in black, but the clothes he wore were more reminiscent of a Muggle suit than wizarding robes. He looked so very, very good, especially compared to the last time she saw him, covered in blood after the thestral birthing. But the look on his face reminded her of a Muggle saying – he was the quintessential deer caught in headlights. As if reading her mind, someone cast a spotlight charm and drowned them both in the bright light. 

_How very helpful,_ Hermione thought sourly. 

Snape stood on the step directly above her on the stairs, and she was acutely aware of how close he was. She hadn’t expected to see him at all this evening. Not that she’d given his presence any thought…or at least not much anyway. It was hardly like him to attend functions like these. But as with herself, the Minister of Magic had more than likely insisted on his attendance. He was, after all, a war hero, just like her, Ron, and Harry, and had to step up and take one for the team occasionally. 

Hermione shook her head slightly to force her thoughts back to the here and now, as well as what she was supposed to do. Tradition demanded they kiss, but would a peck on the cheek suffice? Probably not. Unfortunately, she was sure a kiss on the lips was required, but how would she react when Snape kissed her? It was that uncertainty that she was most worried about. Maybe she would just melt into a puddle in his arms; Maybe she would wrap herself around him like Devil’s Snare. Regardless, Hermione held out little hope that she’d escape the kiss without some form of embarrassment. 

Snape smirked and seemed to collect himself rather splendidly as he gave way to tradition. Hermione watched him move down to the step she was on. Despite that, he was almost a head taller than she, but if she tilted her head up… 

He was insanely handsome tonight, she thought. His hair was long enough to reach below his shoulders, and it looked silky and fine to the touch. The suit he wore hugged him in all the right places, showing off his slim body to perfection. Certainly, the large, hooked nose, angular features and habitual sneer meant that Severus Snape wasn’t your run of the mill, everyday handsome; his looks were something of an acquired taste. Like whiskey, aged well and with a distinct, smoky aftertaste. And since returning to Hogwarts, she had acquired the taste…and then some. 

It was all she had time to think before his warm breath tickled her cheek as he leaned toward her. Hermione shivered in anticipation and her eyes were transfixed by his lips. How come she had never realized what an incredibly sexy mouth he had? Up close like this, she could also see that his eyes weren’t completely black, for they had just a tiny hint of gold in them as well. 

“Miss Granger,” Snape whispered and put one of his hands on her left cheek. She trembled at his touch and wanted to lean into his hand. It was large, dry and she could feel the hints of callouses. 

“Yes,” she replied helplessly. 

“I can most likely get us out of this, should you prefer,” Snape whispered into her ear. He was so close, and Hermione’s breath hitched as his inky black hair tickled her face. What would his lips feel like on hers? 

What did he say? 

_Get us out of it?_

_Oh no._

_Just… No_. 

Hermione turned her head, so her lips brushed lightly against his smooth-shaven cheek, internally willing him to close the scant inch that was between their mouths. Then she buried her fists in the lapels of his shirt and pulled him closer.

“Kiss me,” she hissed and didn’t even bother to look around as she heard titters from the people standing close enough to hear them. The spotlight charm made sure that they were certainly at the centre of attention, but Hermione did not care the slightest. She realised that she had wanted this kiss for a very long time and she was suddenly very grateful for the blasted mistletoe. 

Snape met her gaze unwaveringly and chuckled. Then his lips were on hers. Hermione didn’t know whether she wanted to close her eyes and just enjoy the sensations he provoked in her, or if she wanted to see him kiss her. She opted for the former and enjoyed the feeling to its fullest. His mouth was firm, and there was no hesitation as he pressed his lips against hers. Hermione nearly moaned aloud. The realisation that it was Snape touching her like a lover turned her legs to jelly. She sagged against him and his strong arms immediately encircled her waist to help her stay upright. His mouth on hers was such an amazing feeling; tiny electrical currents flew between them and made her skin tingle. 

But it was more than simple electricity. It was lust. Unbridled, unapologetic, urgent _lust_ coursed through her and she just wanted more. 

As she pressed closer to him, it registered that the attraction was mutual. Definitely mutual. His arms tightened once more around her as he pulled her hips to his. That she wasn’t alone in this incredible hunger took her breath away. Hermione knew that any second he would withdraw, and she wrapped her arms around his neck to keep him near. 

There was no question they were snogging each other senseless like a pair of sixth years. Rita Skeeter would have a field day, Hermione thought dazedly. But Snape surprised her. He deepened the kiss, his tongue sliding sensually against her lips, asking for entrance. Hermione didn’t just allow it, she _demanded_ it and revelled in the experience. Snape tasted like that smoky whiskey she had compared him to so recently. As much as the feeling left her drugged, the consequences finally pushed through the pleasure. Pulling away, Snape stilled briefly and then the grip around her waist loosened. When their eyes met, she knew without a doubt that he felt the same way she did. His eyes were burning with barely restrained desire. 

“Wow!” Charlie’s voice broke into Hermione’s bliss. “Now that’s what I call kissing under the mistletoe.” 

Snape stepped back from her and she noted that his cheeks were flushed, and he had a distinctly dazed expression on his face. “My apologies, Miss Granger. I believe I got a little carried away.”

 _You weren’t the only one_ , Hermione thought, and lifted a hand to her lips where she could still feel the warmth of his mouth against hers, and she just wanted more. Much more. 

“Did you see that? Snape really kissed her!” someone exclaimed. 

Another voice replied: “Did someone confund him? Slip him a lust potion? Dare him to a bet?” 

“Maybe someone Polyjuiced themselves into Snape?” Charlie quipped as he moved to stand protectively next to Hermione. 

“Thank you so very much for that, Charlie Weasley!” Hermione said and thwacked him on the arm a little bit harder than was necessary; the kiss had unsettled her. As she turned around, she saw Snape’s retreating back. 

_Merlin, he’s got a nice arse._

 

**TWO**

Snape had to find somewhere to calm himself. Creating that particular public spectacle had not been on his list of things to do, and it had gone entirely too far. If Hermione hadn’t tried to pull away, he didn’t know what he would have done. He could still feel the warmth of her lips against his, the tentative flick of a tongue welcoming him into her warmth. He almost groaned aloud at the memory. 

_Oh, sweet Circe, what have I done?_

He should have just given her a quick buss and left it at that, but the attraction he felt to Hermione Granger seemed to escalate more and more each day rather than abate. 

When Charlie Weasley had pointed out the mistletoe above her head, Snape’s field of vision had narrowed to her, and her alone. The rest of the people in the room just…disappeared. All he could see was the cobalt blue satin dress that hugged her beautiful body tightly from the bust down to her knees. Her hair was piled high on her head in a delectable mess of curls, and his hands itched to remove the pins and watch it cascade down her slender, porcelain white shoulders. The fantasy of burying his nose in her locks and inhaling the scent of her was as alluring as any drug. In that moment, Hermione Granger was utterly gorgeous. How could he not kiss her when the opportunity arose? 

_And she kissed you back..._

Pushing aside those dangerous thoughts, as well as the wish to go back to her, Snape stalked across the ballroom towards the bar. Trying to seduce Hermione was _such_ a bad idea. She wasn’t technically a colleague but as an apprentice at Hogwarts, she was close enough. 

“A glass of Ogden’s,” he growled at the bartender. “On second thought, give it here,” he continued and grabbed the entire bottle of Firewhisky from the barkeep’s hand. He threw enough galleons on the counter to pay for the Firewhisky. The bottle was more than half full, but Snape knew himself well enough; it would be gone in a short space of time, and if he drank enough of the alcohol, his insistent and very uncomfortable erection would go away. 

Hopefully. 

There was an empty table in the darkness off to the side; it was perfect for his needs. As much as he wanted to leave the Ministry party, Snape had just arrived and Shacklebolt would never forgive him if he disappeared right away. 

His darker nature urged him to put the bottle of alcohol down, find Hermione, and floo back to the dungeons. Snape knew that he could seduce her. 

_How I want to bury myself in her warm, wet heat,_ he thought, his mind supplying him with an image of Hermione, naked in his bed, flushed with arousal and just as wanton with desire. He groaned to himself. She certainly hadn’t seemed unwilling. While all the good reasons as to why he shouldn’t get involved with her were still valid, he just couldn’t seem to bring himself to care. 

_She’s too young and you’re too old…but what difference does it make? It’s not like you’re going to marry the chit. If she’s willing…_

A tumble in the hay was all he needed to get her out of his system, wasn’t it? Shag her silly and then forget all about it. His thoughts and arguments for and against seduction were interrupted as someone appeared next to him at the small table. 

“Are you sharing, or are you planning on downing the rest of that bottle on your own?” 

Snape lifted his glass of Ogden’s but instead of drinking it, he pressed the glass against his feverish cheek, revelling in the coolness. He closed his eyes in defeat as the identity of the voice registered in his brain. Harry-bloody-Potter. 

_Well, at least that took care of the erection._

“Be my guest,” Snape sighed, and gestured to the bottle and the chair opposite. Harry lifted a hand and waved at the bartender, indicating that he, too, wanted a glass. Moments later, he was pouring a generous helping of Firewhisky into a clean glass. 

“So, what was all that about?” Harry asked in a casual tone. He turned the chair around slightly, and didn’t look at Snape but kept his eyes on the dancing couples on the floor. Potter’s dutiful wife, Ginevra, seemed to be dancing with all her brothers, one after the other. 

“What was?” Snape asked, not wanting to make this discussion any easier on the younger man than it was on him. 

_Yes, Harry Potter is certainly one of the reasons why seducing Hermione Granger is such a spectacularly bad idea,_ he thought to himself. Snape crossed one leg over the other, putting one hand on his knee while waiting for Potter’s reaction. 

Green eyes suddenly turned fiercely upon him and the casual tone in Harry’s voice disappeared completely. “You know damn well what I’m talking about! That kiss…that wasn’t the usual ‘caught-under-the-mistletoe’ kiss. That was a ‘snogging-you-senseless-before-taking-you-to-my-bed’ kind of kiss. Is there something you want to tell me, Snape?” 

“Not particularly, no,” Snape retorted, finally taking a healthy swig of the whisky, but it didn’t taste as good as it usually did. 

_And I can chalk that one up to the company!_

“Are you trying to seduce Hermione?” asked Potter bluntly. The young man had a strange look on his face. It wasn’t anger, Snape was quite sure. Odd, that. Snape abruptly felt as though he was sitting with a father who wanted to know what intentions he had with his daughter. 

“I don’t see how that is any of your business,” Snape hissed, feeling terribly defensive. 

“Hermione is not only my best friend, but she’s like a sister to me. I’m making it my business,” Potter explained through clenched teeth. 

Snape sighed. “Would you stop me if I did?” he finally asked, and nearly flinched at his own words. Had he downed more whiskey than he remembered? Had he poured himself a second or even a third glass while he was deliberating? Snape looked down in the glass he had barely touched. No, he was quite sure he had only taken that one swig of his very first glass of the evening. 

Before Potter had time to formulate an answer, he snarled: “Don’t say it.” He put his glass down on the table, leaned forward and brushed a hand across his face as the weight of the world seemed to settle onto his shoulders. “It’s a preposterous notion, and it was just a kiss,” Snape lifted an eyebrow at Potter, hoping he could get away with dismissing it. 

Harry’s brows just knit together, and he looked very determined, rather like a crup with a bone. “If I thought you were someone who went around kissing women like that all the time, I might have just let it go. But you’re not that type, are you?” 

A few seconds passed, and Snape found that he lacked any coherent reply. Picking up his whiskey, he watched the amber liquid swirl around, causing smoke to rise from the glass. Potter was right; he didn’t go around kissing women, or do anything else with them either, at least not for quite a few years. Last time he had felt anything more than pure lust for a woman, it was with Lily, and look how swimmingly that had gone. In later years, spying and teaching had consumed his time, not to mention the more recent occurrence of almost dying. Potter, of course, knew all this. 

Then the younger man continued doggedly. “What I find most important is that she kissed you back.” 

Snape looked up at Potter, but there was no derision in his face. “Yeah, I know,” Potter agreed ruefully. “I was as gobsmacked as everyone else in the room, but she did rather seem to be enjoying herself. Didn’t she?” Potter’s voice suddenly became wry. 

“Quite enthusiastically,” Snape admitted. His mind flashed back to the moment of the kiss and the insane feeling of need that had swelled up inside him the very moment he felt her body against his. 

“I never thought I would say this, Snape, but you two make a strange sort of sense. Just don’t… don’t hurt her, yeah? If you can do this right, I approve – not that either of you need my approval, really. Just thought you’d like to know,” Potter said awkwardly, downed his shot of whiskey, rose to his feet and left suddenly. 

It was Snape’s turn to be gobsmacked. What on earth could Harry Potter have seen in his face that would make him even contemplate giving Snape his _blessing_? Snape let his head fall into his hands. 

_Merlin’s balls,_ he cursed silently as the conversation rattled about in his head. _Shagging her senseless, and then forgetting about it. Was. Not. An. Option._

**THREE**

Hermione still felt unsettled a good while later as she moved across the dance floor in Arthur Weasley’s arms. He was the third Weasley she had danced with since the _kiss_. First there had been Charlie Weasley, who tried his damndest to wrestle information about Snape out of her. She’d very firmly informed him there was no “her and Snape”. 

_No matter how much she wished there was…_

Then Ron had asked her pretty much the same thing, sounding almost jealous. To her relief, Hermione couldn’t have cared less. Being Ron’s girlfriend or fiancée was definitely well behind her. Although she told him the same thing she had told Charlie, Hermione had almost wanted to add “yet” to the statement just to rile Ron up a little, but that would have been petty. 

“Are you alright, Hermione?” Arthur asked and lowered his gaze to meet her eyes. He looked worried, and Hermione, who didn’t really trust her own voice at the moment, just nodded. 

"Are you sure?” he prodded. “You look…upset.” 

“I’m sure,” she managed a tight smile. “I just hate being the centre of attention. I’ll be fine.” Her voice was steadier than she had expected, and Arthur seemed satisfied with her reply. 

While it appeared that the male Weasleys were unwilling to let her sit, her feet were screaming at her. As the music died down, she left Arthur and hurried away towards the bar. From the corner of her eye, she saw Harry moving towards her, but she really, really didn’t want to talk to him about the evening. Hermione also needed a drink, and if she had something in her hand, maybe she would be allowed to sit down for more than a couple of seconds at a time. As she approached the bar, she was pleased to note that there were only a couple of other people getting drinks. 

“Do you know how to mix an Unspeakable?” asked Hermione as soon as she caught the bartender’s attention. He just nodded and started mixing her drink. Hermione turned around, leaned against the countertop and let her gaze move across the room. The mistletoe was still close by, as it had been all evening, and she wondered if it was waiting for another opportunity to swoop down on her. 

Hermione grimaced abruptly. No sooner had she started surveying the tables before she laid eyes on the cause of all her turmoil. Snape sat over by the wall alone, nursing a bottle of what looked like Ogden’s Firewhisky. 

“Here you are,” the bartender interrupted her survey and handed her the drink. 

“Thanks.” Hermione flashed a grin at him. “Would you make me another, please, and then bring it over there,” she said, pointing to the table where Snape sat. She just had to talk to him about what happened. 

“Sure thing, Miss Granger,” replied the barkeep politely. Taking a couple of generous gulps of her strong drink, Hermione squared her shoulders and moved over to Snape. It was time they talked, and this liquid courage was needed to get the conversation started. She took another couple of mouthfuls and swallowed them down quickly as she walked over. 

“So, this is where you ran off to,” Hermione murmured as the buzz of the drink started to calm her down. Without asking for permission, she sat on the chair beside him. Snape was close enough to touch, and her body lit up like fireworks at his proximity. His long fingers were wrapped around the whiskey glass and she distractedly wondered how they would feel against her naked skin. “You ran off on me like you were on fire.” 

Snape looked at her and sneered. “I was thirsty.” 

“At least you get to sit down,” Hermione complained idly and took another sip of her drink. Damn, but it was good. “My feet are killing me. Even the cushioning charm doesn’t help anymore. I’ve been chased by one guy or another, and haven’t left the dance floor ever since our little…encounter.” 

She looked up at him and he just smirked. 

“I’ve been trying to avoid the mistletoe ever since, but it seems to be following me around. I swear it has it in for me.” 

His smirk widened. “Does it now?” 

Looking around, Hermione pointed toward the offending sprig. “Look, there it is, never far away. Will you let me just sit here beside you for a while and rest my feet while avoiding that thing?” 

“And what if it makes its way over here and you are forced to kiss me again?” Snape asked casually. 

Hermione took another gulp of her drink, stalling for time. She was already light headed; maybe it had been a bad idea to order such a strong beverage? It went down so smoothly that you kind of forgot there was alcohol in it. As if on cue, the bartender arrived with her second Unspeakable. She downed the last of the first one and handed over the empty glass. 

“I’d rather kiss _you_ again, than some stranger who just wants to get into my knickers,” Hermione said archly, the words tumbling out of her mouth unbidden. 

“Who says I don’t want to get into your knickers?” Snape asked in a low voice. 

Hermione shot him a look. That barely restrained desire in his eyes made her cheeks heat. She licked her lips nervously and looked away. Oh dear, what should she reply to that? He’d just admitted how attracted he was to her. Not that there was all that much doubt after that kiss. 

Her mind flashed to an image of him above her, inside her; his face twisted in pleasure. The fantasy kicked up the intensity of her arousal another notch. 

_Sweet Circe, I want that. I want_ you _so much._

“You’re not a stranger,” Hermione pointed out at long last. “It’s a little more complicated.” 

Her words hung in the air for just a second or two, and she felt like she couldn’t breathe; it was like all the blood in her body rushed just a bit too quickly through her veins. “But maybe I would like you to try to get into my knickers.” Then Hermione lifted her gaze to meet his. His pupils dilated, and his eyes filled with the same need that raged inside her. 

Without thinking, she moved one hand from the table onto a muscular thigh. Flexing her fingers, caressing the length of his leg, she drew her hand slowly upward. Snape tensed under her touch, and held her gaze steadily. Once again, Hermione licked her lips, and was rewarded for her audacity as he spread his legs almost imperceptibly in invitation. The small movement set her insides on fire and she inhaled sharply. Had it been anyone else, the small movement would have been a subtle hint. With him, it was like he had groaned aloud at her touch and begged for more. His reaction made her so wet. She had never reacted this way to another man in her life. 

“Let’s get out of here,” he choked out, and rose to his feet. 


	4. Chapter 4

**CHAPTER 4**

_I’ve searched the universe_  
_and found myself within her eyes._

_“This I Love” by Guns n’ Roses © 2008, “Chinese Democracy”_

 

**ONE**

_Oh god,_ Hermione thought.

Snape’s strong hand gripped on to hers as she was practically dragged from the ballroom, through the Ministry building and toward the exit. The touch of his large hand engulfing hers was such a thrill, and the way that he looked at her…. 

_I want him._

She looked up at him as he stalked through the ballroom in front of her. Seeing him like this wasn’t quite as intimidating as when his robes billowed behind him, but the austere black clothing was familiar, and there was no question of the authority and confidence he exuded. 

_He wants me._

_Are we going to do this?_

She laughed, maybe a little hysterically, and hoped that nobody noticed their hasty retreat from the party as they stopped by the entrance to pick up their cloaks. 

_I’m going to have sex with Professor Snape,_ Hermione thought. _Oh my god._

“Allow me,” he purred and stepped behind her. He held out her cloak and adjusted it over her shoulders. She shivered at the brush of his fingertips against her neck. As though he couldn’t keep himself from touching her, he let his hands run down her arms, and she caught a glimpse of the buttons at the cuff of his jacket in the corner of her eye. The caress sent a frisson of pleasure through her. Automatically, she leaned toward him and felt his long, wiry body against her back. How could such an innocuous touch be so thrilling? Even Ron’s kisses had never made her feel like this. 

Reluctantly, he finally pulled away from her and put on his own cloak. As soon as he was done, he took her hand again, and led her toward the exit. Pushing open the door, he allowed her to go first. 

_So, he’s a gentleman beneath all that surliness,_ Hermione thought. 

Outside, it was snowing; large, lazy snowflakes fluttered down from above, and Snape pulled her close. She could feel the rough fabric of his cloak against her overly warm cheek as he held her. He rested his chin on her head and his long, black hair brushed against her forehead. Now what? Was he going to kiss her? Would they go straight to his bed? Hermione didn’t think she could stand the unknowns any longer; It was as though she’d been waiting for this very moment since she returned to Hogwarts in the autumn. 

“Now is your chance to change your mind, Miss Granger,” he said in a tight, restrained voice. Snape pulled back a little and a fingertip underneath her chin made her look up; his dark gaze met hers, and he was apparently very serious. His hair fell forward in the darkness, and while she could barely make out his austere features, Hermione could see that the passion she had seen in his eyes was still there. Although he was keeping a tight leash on his control, his desire was barely restrained.

“Hermione,” she admonished. 

“Pardon me?”

“Call me Hermione, and I definitely won’t change my mind.” 

_Not a bloody chance in hell!_

He let out a very small breath and his lips curled into something that could be deemed a smile. “Very well, Hermione,” he murmured and pulled her back into his embrace. Then there was the familiar, unsettling tug as he Apparated them both away from the Ministry; it caught her a little off guard. 

They arrived just outside the gates of Hogwarts and walked along the almost bare path to the main gate in silence. Apparently, Hagrid had been well enough to magic the surroundings free of snow. As they made their way through Hogwarts, Hermione dreaded running into someone they knew. The grounds were uncharacteristically empty, however; most of the students had left for the holidays and the majority of the staff was at the Yule Ball. She sighed gratefully. It wasn’t that she wanted to hide anything, but meeting anyone in her current state of mind, when she just wanted to wrap herself very closely around Snape would be most embarrassing. Hermione wondered if she was broadcasting her desire and that anyone could see it just by looking at her. 

“Let’s go to my rooms,” she offered. “They’re closer.”

He shot her a look over his shoulder and nodded. 

Before the door to her rooms even closed behind them, Hermione was pushed up against a wall with Snape’s tall, lean body pressing into hers. It was like they were made to fit, and they both groaned aloud at the long-awaited contact. 

“Merlin, I want you,” he hissed. “Tell me you want me, too.” His eyes roamed her face, as though searching for the answer in her features. 

Hermione met his gaze steadily. “Oh, I do, I want you, too…Severus,” she admitted. “So very much.” 

That barely restrained desire that she had seen in his dark eyes was suddenly unleashed, and the touch of his lips against hers was like fire sizzling across every nerve ending. They kissed open-mouthed, desperate and deep, with their tongues duelling. She writhed against him, wanting more contact, and he thrust against her desperately as though he too couldn’t get close enough. 

Snape tasted of the Firewhisky he had drunk and Hermione would never be able to see a bottle of the beverage without remembering this moment. Indeed, they were both making noises she had never thought a simple kiss could provoke, although there was nothing simple about their kisses; they were passionate and unrestrained with each other. Hermione had never kissed like this in her life, as if she wanted to devour Severus, like he wanted to devour her in turn. 

“Oh, God,” she moaned and slid her hands around his back down to his buttocks. His bum was all tight and hard muscle and she loved touching him like that. The boldness of her actions thrilled her even more; she had never had the nerve to do something like that to Ron. Snape’s growl of appreciation didn’t go unnoticed either. Without any hesitation, she pulled him closer, joyful at the realization that he was hard as rock against her stomach. “I want you. Closer. Please.”

He groaned and buried his face against her neck, panting heavily; his breath hot and rapid against her sensitive skin and she shivered. 

“I don’t think I can hold back, Hermione,” he admitted ruefully. “It’s been a very long time for me, and I want to be inside you so much. I feel like the last few weeks have been nothing but foreplay.”

Images of Snape flicked through her memories. 

_As she touched his neck, raising goose bumps on his flesh in the Infirmary…._

_Him, standing in the staff room, pulling his frock off, unbuttoning his shirt, pulling it out of his trousers…_

_Rolled up sleeves as he prepared to help the thestral in her birthing…_

_The moment she saw him at the ministry, all in black as usual, but so very handsome…_

_The kiss under the mistletoe…_

_The touch of her hand on the inside of his thigh; him, spreading his legs in invitation…_

“I’ve felt the same,” she gasped and pulled his face up to kiss him again. “Let’s take the edge off first, shall we?”

They returned to their intense snogging, his tongue thrusting into her mouth, and then he was sucking at her lip, moaning. Impatiently, he pulled at Hermione’s dress, bunching the skirt around her waist. Cool air brushed across the insides of her sensitized thighs. Standing so close together she could feel the fabric of Snape’s trousers brush against her naked skin, and she wanted more, so much more. He insinuated his hand between her legs and she whimpered and rubbed her head against the wall behind her restlessly. His fingers ghosted over her pussy, causing her to clench tightly in anticipation. Hermione wanted him inside her – badly. The silky material of her knickers only intensified the light caress and eagerly, she thrust against his hand. In response, he grunted and inserted a finger around the flimsy fabric between her legs and practically tore off her knickers. She laughed breathlessly at his impatience, but she shared it. 

_Oh God, do I ever share his impatience!_

“I’m so wet for you, S-Severus,” she whispered into his ear. “I want you just as much as you want me. Feel me.”

The fact that they were still standing against the wall in her hallway barely registered. All Hermione could think of was how he touched her. She took his hand and guided it to her hot, wet pussy and he gasped. Arousal shot through her so intensely it was almost painful when his fingertips brushed over her folds. It was impossible for him to miss how affected by lust she was: the insides of her thighs were covered in moisture and she just wanted him _there._

“Oh, Merlin, I’ve dreamt of feeling you like this,” he groaned as his hands explored her. 

“Me too,” Hermione whispered. 

Not removing his hand from her quim, he caressed her, using his long, skilled fingers to spread the slick juices over her clit and circled it repeatedly. Hermione whimpered at the touch; it sent liquid fire through her body, and it wouldn’t take much to make her come, she realised. 

“Go on,” she begged. “Keep doing that. Right there. More. I want you. Oh, god, it feels so good, so good.” Hermione knew she was babbling, but she couldn’t help it. His fingers moved deliciously over her sensitive folds. She closed her eyes and just revelled in the intense sensations he provoked. 

“Inside you…I need to be in you. Now,” he grunted. His voice was hoarse, and it was nearly unrecognizable but still so very sexy. His baritone sent shivers through her entire body. 

_God, I think I could come just by listening to him._

“Yessss…” Hermione hissed. She could barely think, her entire body was running on instinct and she moved impatiently against him, and nearly cried out when he removed his hand from her core. 

She could hear the clinking of his belt buckle and she realized Snape was working on the buttons of his trousers, pushing them open, then pulling himself out. Sighing in relief as his cock sprang free, he then positioned himself at her entrance. Using his fingers, he spread her labia wide, and Hermione helped by tilting her pelvis, allowing him to lift her legs so she could wrap them around his slim hips. The bricks of the wall dug into her back, but she hardly noticed. All she could feel was him, _there,_ about to give her what she desperately needed and wanted. 

Hermione felt the head of Severus’ cock sliding across her opening, getting him slick and ready. Then he finally pushed inside, sinking deep with one long, impatient thrust into her. She was filled to the brim by his hot and stiff cock. They both groaned aloud at the sensation. 

“Bloody hell, you’re tight,” he grunted. 

“Oh!” she gasped as she slowly got used to the feeling of him thrusting inside her. “Oh, that’s nice… Yes, oh, yes, I’m going to….” His fingers went back to caressing her clit and already, she was close, so close.

As he was withdrawing and pushing back into her, Hermione could finally really feel, and not just see, how Snape was much larger than anyone else she’d had sex with; he stretched her to her very limits. It didn’t faze her, however, because being filled almost to the breaking point, felt amazing. 

“Unh,” she moaned each time he thrust back into her over and over again. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she watched his face go slack with pleasure. He tilted his head to the side, hair swinging across his angular features with each push into her, working fervently in and out, obviously trying very hard not to come too soon. 

“Just let go, Severus,” she moaned. “You feel absolutely wonderful.”

He ground out: “I want you to…come…first.”

She pushed her hands into his long hair, feeling the silky, fine locks slide through her fingers as she pulled at it, angling his face so that she could kiss him again. They practically devoured each other, desperate for more contact, for more…oh, she wanted to come, and the desire to do just that was almost desperate. 

“I’m almost there, almost,” she keened and used her inner muscles to clamp around him encouragingly. 

“Oh… you’re… naughty.”

His fingers continued to work sensuously on her clit, and she felt the familiar tightening of muscles at her core, and it occurred to her that perhaps she _would_ come while being fucked for the very first time in her life. 

“Oh, Severus,” she whimpered and felt the pleasure build rapidly. His hard, big cock drew pleasure out of her the likes she’d never experienced before. He kept thrusting inside her and slowly but certainly he pulled the orgasm out of her. Hermione’s head fell back against the wall as her climax rolled in wave after wave through her body. She spasmed tightly around him but he didn’t relent his thrusting. 

“Oh unnnnnnnh,” she keened as the orgasm crashed over her. 

“Bloody naughty,” he growled. 

“And you like it...” Hermione felt like a rag doll. All that kept her upright was the pressure of his body against hers, his cock still inside her and his steel-hard arm around her waist as he continued to move inside her. 

Retuning to herself, she languidly dragged her lips across his neck, then sucked hard, alternately biting and kissing the pulse point where his neck met his shoulder. She chose to mark the right side where there was no scarring. His skin smelled good, like pine and sandalwood. Some other smell underneath must be his very own scent and it was as intoxicating to her as any lust potion could ever be. 

Her biting into his neck playfully seemed to be all it took to push him beyond his limit, because Snape’s entire body tensed like a bowstring, and he moaned, deep from within, thrusting twice and then his body stilled. Hermione felt his cock jerking and pulsing out his semen inside her as he came. 

“Ooohhh,” he groaned. “Oh…you feel…bloody…amazing.”

Being with him in midst of orgasm felt heavenly, and Hermione just didn’t want the feeling of him inside her to end. She glanced at him through hooded eyes, and it thrilled her to the bone that she put that look of pure ecstasy on his face. His climax seemed to go on forever, and she thought they might fall to the floor, but somehow, he kept them upright through it all. 

When he slowly pulled out of her, she felt bereft, but as she looked him in the eyes, the desire there had not lessened. He tucked himself into his trousers but didn’t do up the buttons. 

“Did that take the edge off?” he smirked against her ear and bit her lobe lightly. 

Hermione shuddered and allowed her feet to hit the floor as he gently let her go. Her shoes had been kicked off somewhere in the middle of their coupling and she couldn’t care less. Instead she looked up and gave him a crooked smile. 

“It’s a start. Why? Are you done in, _old_ man?” She hoped he wouldn’t take offense at her quip. 

“I haven’t even begun, little _girl,_ ” he retorted with a lifted eyebrow. 

Then he swept her off the floor and into his arms. She shrieked and giggled as he carried her the few steps left to reach her bed. It wasn’t a twin bed, exactly, but it wasn’t overly large either. Pulling her wand from the sheath at her thigh, Hermione effortlessly transformed it into a larger size. 

“Nice trick you’ve learned there, Miss Granger,” he teased. 

“Size matters, Professor Snape,” she informed him haughtily. 

Chuckling, he dumped her unceremoniously on the bed. Hermione couldn’t get over how different he was now, compared to her surly Professor Snape – _and since when was he_ her _Professor Snape_ – but she supposed even he had to let go of some of his sharper edges in the bedroom. 

“Undress for me,” she begged, sitting up on the bed eagerly, shocked at her own brashness. 

Again, his eloquent eyebrow lifted, but he stretched his arms out in front of him, shrugging the jacket in place as though in preparation, before he began unbuttoning it. Snape’s long fingers moved deftly over the black jacket’s buttons. His eyes never left hers as she watched and, finally, the jacket fell open. Shrugging it off, he elegantly hung it across the back of a chair that stood beside her bed. She couldn’t tear her eyes off the way his trousers hugged him perfectly over narrow hips and wiry thighs; Hermione just wanted to caress him. Gorgeous. Hot. Oh god, so hot. 

“Wait,” she interrupted. He looked at her askance as she scooted forward on the bed so that she could sit on the edge, right in front of him. “Sexy,” she murmured. She wanted all that soft, pale skin at her disposal, the slim hips, the hardness once more pressing at his pants. She drew her fingers lightly across the edges of that hard cock, and he gasped, and threw his head back, baring his throat at her intimate touch. Oh, she didn’t know what else could be so incredibly hot. Snape had halted his movements, letting his arms fall to the side, and he looked down at her. Waiting patiently for her next move, he stood still while Hermione put her hands on his hips, caressing him through the soft fabric. She moved reverently from his hips, downwards, and back to his buttocks. 

“Oh God, Severus,” she moaned. He hummed at her touch. Holding back made him tense, and she realized what power she held over him at this moment. “You are insanely hot,” she said, not knowing how to communicate her all-consuming desire.

 _Whoever said he was an ugly old git should have their eyes examined – twice,_ Hermione decided. She swallowed thickly against the desire that arose at the mere sight of him, and the simple touch of her hands moving across his behind, and his thighs, flesh steel hard under her touch. 

“Go on, keep undressing for me. Show me more,” she finally rasped hoarsely. 

Without a word, he continued his disrobing with the pristine, white shirt, starting with the buttons at his wrists, then pulling it out of his trousers and slowly finished unbuttoning it. Apparently, her appreciative gaze said all he needed to know because he gave her a knowing look. 

“Brings back fond memories, does it not?” he smirked at her, and she could only nod. She was almost salivating. 

Oh, Hermione remembered very well how he had removed his shirt before, but this time, she didn’t have to look away: she could watch him to her heart’s content, and she did. It was such an intimate action, watching him undress in front of her. Languidly, he shoved the shirt off his shoulders, unselfconscious and comfortable in his own sexuality. God, but that confidence was such a turn-on. He said it had been a while, but apparently, he hadn’t forgotten how to put on a show. 

“God, Severus, I wanted to touch you so badly,” she admitted breathlessly. 

“Then touch me,” he invited and pulled down his trousers, stepping out of them and standing completely nude before her. He was tall and lanky, but had wiry muscles and long limbs, and she knew that the strength harboured there was more than met the eye. 

“Yes,” she replied breathlessly. “But first…” 

Rising from the bed, Hermione reached behind her, and as she pulled the zipper down, the dress fell to the floor in a pool of electric blue around her feet. She stepped out of it, feeling a little silly wearing nothing but her bra, since her knickers already lay in a torn heap somewhere on the floor. 

“Allow me,” he whispered and moved behind her to unclasp her brassiere. Touching her shoulders, he pushed down the straps and leaned forward to kiss her neck lightly. She shivered and leaned her head back on one of his shoulders. The bra fell to the floor on top of the dress, and Hermione felt shy suddenly but forced herself to not cover her breasts. He was naked and seemed comfortable with it, and she would match him. Turning her around, Severus gazed at her. 

“Exquisite,” he murmured. Looking her over from tip to toe, she felt his regard like a velvety caress. “You are beautiful, Hermione.”

“Th-thank you,” she replied, seeing the truth in his eyes. She relaxed a little and then gasped as he laid his hands on her shoulders, caressing her, moving gently downward to cup her breasts with both hands. Oh, she was so sensitive there. 

“They fit perfectly.” he murmured. 

She saw his gaze centre on his hands as they cupped her breasts, rolling the rosy tips of her nipples between his thumbs and forefingers. Raw hunger shot through her body at his touch. 

“Oh,” she gasped. 

Letting go of the nipples, he brushed his long-fingered hands across the flesh of her rounded breasts again. Then he leaned in to kiss her, moving them both around so they were standing face to face next to her bed, and trailing kisses from her gasping mouth to her neck and shoulder, licking the sensitive flesh that he found there. Goose bumps rose on her skin. 

Seemingly unaware, he kissed his way down to one of her breasts. Opening his mouth, he breathed on a nipple and then took it into his mouth. Hermione almost lost her balance, feeling the warm, wet sensation of him suckling her nipple. The touch was sweet torture. As he flicked his tongue across the nub and the areola, she whimpered and moved closer to him, so she could feel his stomach against her, but his position licking her breast wouldn’t allow their bodies to touch completely. Snape ignored her pleading and instead sucked the areola into his mouth, laving it with his tongue. Desire, lightning fast and hot, shot through her body straight down to her core. 

“Beautiful,” he murmured. “Perfect little tits, and such lovely, rosy nipples.”

“Oh, Severus,” she moaned and placed her hands on his chest, the black hairs tickling her fingers and palms. 

Without replying, he moved onto the other breast and gave it the same attention. He was completely focused on what he was doing, and she suddenly understood the term “breast man”. Hermione had never thought she had beautiful tits, but apparently, Severus Snape thought she did and that was all that mattered. 

“I can’t stand up much longer. That feels too good,” Hermione admitted breathlessly. Opening her eyes, she looked down at his mouth suckling her breast with an expression of pure bliss on his face. Turning her gaze further down, she could see that lovely cock standing at attention and she nearly cried out. She wanted so much to feel him inside her again. 

Snape stopped for a second, but only to move her the two small steps toward the bed and push her down. No sooner had she bounced down on the mattress before he moved on top of her and continued his attention on her breasts, but not for very long. He let go of the second nipple and moved further down her body, kissing and licking her all the way, sending charges of pleasure through her insides. Hermione squirmed under him, feeling his hot and hard erection against her thigh. It was silky smooth and heavy against her. She would like to lick it and suck it as he had done to her nipples. Would she even be able to take him fully into her mouth? Did she want to try now? 

Forgetting her concerns, Hermione trembled as his questing lips and tongue reached the apex of her thighs. Moving slowly and avoiding her centre, he instead continued by nipping lightly along the insides of her thighs. The touch was sizzling across her nerve endings and made her entire core ache with need. Before Snape she had never been this aroused before. As he breathed on the slightly dampened skin, the gust of air enhanced the sensation. Going closer to where she wanted him, he grazed her pubic hairs, blowing on them and making it tickle. The cool air against her sensitive flesh felt amazing. It was impossible for her to not hold her breath as she realized what he was about to do. Nobody had ever licked her there and she tensed a little. 

And then his tongue parted her inner lips, gliding languidly across her clitoris and the inner labia, sucking gently. 

“Oh, sweet Merlin,” she moaned loudly. 

The wet, intimate caress continued, and the touch felt so fantastic, it made her squirm. She could honestly say that nothing had ever felt as good before. Angling her hips in encouragement, she felt him acquiesce to her silent plea and he buried his face in her wet quim. His nose rubbed her clit as he began licking more insistently, laving her whole sex with his tongue, dipping it into her entrance and going back to her clit. Then he inserted two fingers into her pussy. 

“Ah!” she gasped. 

Soon, he moved his tantalizing mouth lower, further back. He wasn’t going to… was he? 

_Yes, he is. Good God, he’s going to…_

“Aaaaahhhh,” Hermione all but screamed as she felt his tongue circling her most private self, and it felt so **bloody** good. How could _his tongue in her arse_ feel that good?

Never had she expected him to lick her _there_ , but it felt like nothing else she had ever experienced. That incredibly intimate touch shot through her, overpowering in its intensity. Thrashing from side to side, she was almost mindless with pleasure, almost trying to get away, but not really… 

Severus then curled his fingers toward her G-spot, fucking her slowly at first, but then moving faster. Simultaneously grazing his thumb across her clit, and continuing to swirl his tongue around her dusky opening, darting it lightly inside now and again. He groaned while he licked, as though nothing had ever been this arousing. Her body was coiling hot and tight and the sensations only intensified; what he was doing, and the sound of his obvious enjoyment of her was enough to send her hurtling off into oblivion again. This orgasm was insanely strong, and he didn’t stop the licking or the fucking motion of his fingers inside her until the final spasms abated and she went utterly boneless beneath him. He was moaning continuously now, as though he couldn’t help himself. Eventually, she came back to herself and opened her eyes. Snape had moved up her body, so he was leaning over her on both arms, and he looked like he was ready to pounce. But Hermione was not ready for that just yet….

At long last it was her turn to give him as much pleasure as he had given her. Hermione pushed at him a little and he sat back on his haunches, legs spread and with his cock pointing up toward his belly. He was very hard, and his cock slanted a tiny bit to the left. The head was dark red, almost purple, and a clear drop of liquid glistened in his slit. 

“Please touch me,” he groaned.

Emboldened by his unrestrained plea, she decided not to tease, but to accommodate him right away. 

“Lie down on your back,” she instructed him, and he acquiesced immediately. He pulled her pillow to him and lay down comfortably with his hands behind his head. Severus tried to give her that customary lifted eyebrow in challenge, but he didn’t quite succeed. Raw lust, and need, shone too brightly behind his dark eyes. She smiled and loved the way he was looking at her. It made her feel wanted, and very attractive. No man had made her feel that desirable before. 

Hermione leaned forward to kiss him, enjoying his welcoming mouth. He hummed in pleasure as their lips met and he was about to move his hands to pull her closer, but she backed away, quickly. 

“Oh no. It’s my turn,” Hermione said. 

Smirking, he put his hands behind his head again. “Be my guest, but do _something._ ” 

Moving down his body, she kissed his neck and across his shoulders in feather light touches. She kissed her way across whitened scars, some thin and smooth, others thick and knobby. Hermione couldn’t help wondering how he had gotten them all. Had Lord Voldemort done all this to him? She wasn’t sure she wanted to know and pushed the thought away, continuing to kiss him across the collarbone and down to his chest. The black hairs felt a little coarse against her lips, but it was a thrilling sensation. Moving further down, she playfully pulled one nipple into her mouth and suckled. 

Snape hissed. 

Encouraged by his reaction, Hermione licked it and bit gently. Then she gave the other nipple the same treatment before continuing downwards. He pulled his legs up, spreading them invitingly, as though wanting to make room for her between them; it was also a hint as to where he really wanted her mouth. Hermione smiled, but didn’t let herself be distracted from her task. Continuing her kisses toward his navel, she dipped her tongue into the slight indentation and he hissed again. 

_Mmm, I could learn to love that sound,_ Hermine thought. 

“Please,” he ground out. 

_I’ve got him begging. Never thought I’d hear him beg._

“Please what?” she murmured, unable not to tease him just a little bit, and met his gaze. He was scowling at her. 

“Please… just suck me. I want your hot little mouth around my cock,” he grunted, his body vibrating like a tuning fork with the effort to hold back. He was no longer lying in a restful pose with his hands behind his neck. Instead, he was digging his fingers into the sheets, quite obviously forcing himself not to push her into the position where he wanted her. 

Not wanting to torture him any longer, she moved down his body and settled between his bent knees. Without preamble, she grabbed the base of his cock. Again, he let out a strangled hiss. 

_Wow, it really is massive…._

Uncut, thick and long, his cock felt like steel covered with the most exquisite silk in her hand. Her fingers couldn’t circle his girth and she was both impressed and a little intimidated. Moving her other hand to cup his testicles, she leaned forward and opened her mouth over his glans. As her lips wrapped around him, Snape thrust lightly as though he couldn’t hold himself back, and moaned. 

It wasn’t the first time Hermione had given head, but she had never done it on such a challenging subject before. With some careful manoeuvring, she managed to get the head of his penis into her mouth and swirled her tongue around it to stimulate him. Sucking experimentally, she moved her mouth over the glans, kissing it and continuing the open-mouthed licks along the shaft. She licked and kissed all the way down to his scrotum, laving one testicle with saliva and cupping the other with her free hand, rolling it gently with her fingers, then scraping her nails across the taut sack. He seemed to enjoy it immensely if his noises were anything to go by. 

To her surprise, Hermione was again dripping wet, almost to the point of embarrassment; feeling his cock in her mouth was a heady experience. Putting her mouth back on the glans, she wrapped her lips around the head of his penis again and started moving up and down along his shaft as far as she could without gagging. It wasn’t all that far, but his enthusiastic response made her feel appreciated. Moaning, she continued her ministrations, unable to make up her mind if she wanted him to come in her mouth or if she wanted him to fuck her again. Realistically, she couldn’t expect both. Thankfully, Snape made up her mind for her. Burying his hands in her rambunctious hair, he gently pulled at her to make her stop. 

“Merlin’s balls, woman, that feels so good, but I don’t want to come in your mouth. I want to be inside you.”

“I won’t argue with that,” Hermione quipped, and he grinned mischievously at her. 

“You want me to fuck you again, little minx?”

Hermione nodded and turned to lie down on the bed. 

“Oh no, this time, you do the work,” he protested. “I’m just going to lie here and watch your tits bounce in my face.” 

Blushing furiously, Hermione looked away. “I-I’ve never….“ 

She had never felt comfortable suggesting anything adventurous with Ron and the two one night stands she’d had were all very missionary style… 

“You’ve never been on top before?” he finished for her. “That’s all right. I’ll guide you. Come here.”

He straightened his legs and encouraged her to straddle his hips, poising herself above his cock. “There,” he crooned. “That’s perfect. Oh, you look gorgeous, Hermione. So damn hot.”

His appreciative words made her feel better about the whole situation, and she positioned herself so that his cock could glide inside her.

“Oh. My. God. You’re huge,” she moaned. 

“I’ve already fit. You can take it,” he murmured as she slowly sank down on his cock. 

The sensation of him filling her was starting to feel familiar, but she really didn’t know how to ride him. How was she supposed to position her legs? 

“You can either be on your knees or sit on your haunches,” he instructed her. “It is probably easier if you’re on your knees. It’s less exhausting for a first time,” 

Hermione leaned forward a little, balancing herself by leaning a hand against his sparsely haired chest, and then started moving experimentally. She found that she could control the depth of penetration and she had some say in the pace as well. 

“That feels good,” she admitted, feeling less self-conscious as passion took over. 

_Good thing I didn’t know how amazing he would feel inside me when I was in school, or I’d have seduced my Potions Professor,_ Hermione thought irrationally. But back then, Ron had been the only man – boy – on her mind. 

“It does,” he groaned as she slid up and down his cock a couple of times. 

Her long, curly hair fell around them like a fluffy curtain and it encircled them, making Hermione feel like there was nothing else in the world but them. His eyes met hers and she saw something there that she had never seen before, making her heart skip a beat. Bending down, she took his mouth in a passionate kiss and they were off. Hermione didn’t think she’d be able to come from the position, but he had free reign of her body, and was able to lick and suck her nipples while one hand worked on her clit and the other hand helped her move up and down on his hard shaft. 

“Slow down, just a little,” he murmured against her lips. “If you keep that up, I’m going to come.”

“Isn’t that the whole idea?” Hermione replied tartly. 

“Let’s enjoy the ride, first. We already had our quickie for this night,” he smirked. “Impatient youth.”

“I’m not impatient,” Hermione protested. “This feels incredible. I want it to never stop. Feeling you inside me is better than anything I’ve felt before.” 

“Oh…don’t talk like that, you temptress,” he groaned and started meeting her thrusts eagerly. She could feel him harden even further at her words. Hermione wondered if he found her voice equally as arousing as she found his. 

“Talk to me,” she begged. “Your voice. It’s always made me tremble inside. It is fucking sexy.” 

“Hmmm,” he purred. “You feel so hot and tight around my cock, Hermione. I love being inside you. It’s bloody fabulous.”

“Yes,” Hermione whimpered, the naughty words feeling almost like a caress – a very intimate caress. 

“Touch yourself, Hermione,” he instructed. “Rub your clit, like you would if you wanted to come when I’m not with you.” His eyes were almost black and wouldn’t leave her flushed face for an instant. 

She did as he asked, blushing fiercely but determined to meet his demands. 

“That’s it, my pretty little vixen. You look like a goddess.” 

As she slid her hand down between her legs, her moves became erratic. To help, he grabbed her hips, holding her steady as he thrust inside her repeatedly while she rubbed her clit, like she did when she was alone. Like she’d done while thinking about him for too many recent nights. 

“Oh,” she panted. “I can’t get over how good you feel inside me while I do this. It’s so much better when you’re fucking me.”

“Do you touch yourself often?” he asked. 

“More so, lately,” she admitted and met his gaze. She didn’t have to explain what she meant, but he asked none-the-less. 

“You’ve touched yourself, thinking of me?” His voice was suddenly gravelly with lust. 

“Oh yes,” she admitted. “Often. I’ve been so turned on by you for weeks. I’ve even had to go touch myself after lunch in the Great Hall, because I haven’t been able to think about anything else but you. and how you would feel…inside me. On me…with me.”

Suddenly he grabbed her hips and turned them both around so that he was on top. Without a word, he picked up the pace, thrusting into her deeply, and fast. “You’re making me insane with your dirty talk,” he gasped and buried his face against her neck, sucking her sensitive flesh. Hermione groaned; the vigorous thrusts were exactly what she needed to come. 

“Go on, Severus. I’m going to come…soon. You feel wonderful. Fuck me harder!”

He complied, and Hermione’s entire world narrowed to the sensation of his thrusting inside her, and the heat he generated, her core muscles tightening in preparation for a momentous orgasm – and finally it was upon her. She wailed and wrapped her legs around his hips, meeting his every thrust eagerly, wantonly. 

She’d barely started before she felt him stiffen inside her, his cock pulsing in his own violent release. The sensation of him coming inside her again was arousing on so many levels. 

_I made him come._

_I made him feel like this._

And by Merlin, she wanted to do it again and again…. Suddenly reality reasserted itself. He was still inside her, and yet her mind started racing. What if he saw this as a one-time thing? That was what Hermione had been thinking when she suggested that they go to her rooms rather than his; she wouldn’t have to go through the awkwardness of not knowing whether he wanted her to be gone in the morning or if he wanted her to stay. 

As the sweat started to dry on her skin and the aftershocks began to fade, Hermione realised that she wanted very much more than a single one-night-stand with Professor Snape.


	5. Chapter 5

**CHAPTER 5**

_Before the dawn,_  
_I hear you whisper, in your sleep, ,_  
_don’t let the morning take him. ,_  
_Outside the birds begin to call, ,_  
_as if to summon of my leaving. ,_  
_It’s been a lifetime, since I found someone, ,_  
_since I found someone who would stay. ,_  
_I waited too long, and now you’re leaving. ,_  
_Oh, please don’t take it all away…,_

_“Before the Dawn” by Judas Priest ,_  
_© 1978, “Killing Machine” (Europe) ,_  
_© 1979, “Hell Bent for Leather” (USA) ,_

 

**ONE**

Hermione woke slowly, feeling more relaxed than she had in years and as though a great burden had been lifted from her shoulders. It wasn’t just the recollection of making love to Snape that brought her such relief, it was what occurred after. 

In their haste to get into bed, she and Severus had knocked over the only picture Hermione had left of her parents, shattering the glass and the frame. Neither had noticed the damage until they’d been basking in the afterglow of fantastic sex. Once Hermione had seen it, she’d fallen to bits; Severus had not only promptly fixed the picture, but had comforted and held her in such a way that she still felt all sorts of warm and fuzzy. 

Recalling the comfort of his arms, she opened her eyes completely and reached for him. As her fingers slid over the sheets, she noted that Severus side of the bed was cold. With a smack, the realisation hit her: he wasn’t there. 

Hermione jolted into sitting position to look around. Had he gone to the loo? Was he even still around somewhere? But, no, the empty bed and the fact that all his clothes were gone told Hermione everything she needed to know. He had left before she woke up. Had it just been a one-night stand for Severus? She was so confused and hung-over. She shouldn’t have drunk those Unspeakables, she knew it…but if she hadn’t, she might not have had this night either. 

To her dismay, Hermione started crying again, as if she hadn’t cried enough that night. Her attention was drawn to the pristine picture of her parents sitting on her bedside table. The memory of how she had fallen apart in Severus’ arms made her wonder if she had scared him off with her unbalanced emotions. It was the first time she had talked to anyone about how lost she felt without her family. 

Upon waking, she thought they would talk about what to do next, how they were going to continue their relationship, but apparently that wasn’t in the cards. The knowledge that he had left her bed before she woke indicated to her that he saw at their evening as nothing more than a shag, nothing worth building on. _Maybe he is incapable of anything more?_ she thought. _Maybe Harry’s wretched mother had destroyed his capability to love…or perhaps his courage to try?_ Hermione forced herself to stop crying. _Maybe that was something she could build on?_ It was a treacherous hope at best…

Like a ghost, she put her clothes on and went down to breakfast, hoping to see him, hoping to find out that there had been a task important enough to have taken him from her company. But as she arrived at the Great Hall, she realised immediately that he wasn’t there. The seat which he normally occupied was empty and cold, just as her bed had been. She slipped into the seat next to Professor McGonagall. 

“Where is Professor Snape?” she asked Minerva. 

The older woman looked at her with a mild expression of confusion on her face. “I have to admit, I haven’t a clue,” she replied. “I have not seen him since your infamous _kiss_ last night. I was sure that if anyone knew where Severus was, it would be you.”

Hermione blushed and looked down at her plate of dry toast. She wasn’t hungry, but she intended to try to eat, if only to keep up appearances. 

“You look a little…distraught,” Minerva said in a very low voice so that nobody else would overhear her words. “Has something happened? Do you need to talk?”

Hermione didn’t know where to start, or if she even wanted to get into this with the Headmistress. 

“I know it isn’t any of my business, but after last night…is it about Severus?” Minerva then asked, though it must have been rather obvious after Hermione’s question. 

Hermione nodded, deciding that her need to unburden herself outweighed the usual proprieties. “He just left.”

“Very well,” the older woman said and pushed her chair from the table and rose. “Let’s go somewhere more private to have a little chat.”

Hermione nodded, leaving her dry toast where it lay. What little determination to eat she had just deserted her anyway. 

* * * 

Talking to Minerva didn’t help. When Hermione had given a PG-rated version of events, the older woman reacted roughly the same way Hermione had, with sadness and anger as well as a sense of betrayal. 

“I would have never thought that Severus would do such a thing….” 

The reassurances the Headmistress tried to give Hermione felt hollow, and it was obvious that she herself didn’t believe in them. 

At dinner, there was no Snape. 

Not at breakfast, the following day, either. 

If he had showed up on the first or second day, Hermione would have tried to talk to him, but as the hours crept by with no sign of Snape anywhere, her feelings went from sadness, to distress, to finally white-hot anger. She knew she had no right to feel that way, but she felt used. Used and discarded and as though he’d fled from her without so much a by-your-leave. 

Christmas was coming closer and Hermione hadn’t felt so little holiday cheer in her life. Hogwarts sported the same lovely decorations as it always did – it was the epitome of Christmas. All she wanted to do was hex the Christmas trees, the holly, and the house-elves scurrying about sporting Santa hats. But most of all, she wanted to hex Severus Snape’s balls off for disappearing without a trace. Preferably for good. She could hang them with the holly…

 

TWO

Two agonizing days later when Snape finally returned to Hogwarts, she had transitioned from anger to a sense of acceptance; Hermione decided she never wanted to speak to him ever again. She’d pretend that nothing had happened, that he was a colleague and nothing more. Politeness, professionality and distance – _that was the way to go._

And then, just as suddenly as he disappeared, Severus returned to Hogwarts. From nowhere, he came towards her, stalking really, with the robes billowing around him in that familiar, powerful way that always made her insides melt. She fought the instinctive reaction and ignored him. Hermione couldn’t believe the facial expression he greeted her with. He looked positively _smug_ … as though he was incredibly pleased with himself. Ruthlessly, she pushed away the wish to throw herself into his arms and beg him to give her a second chance; it would certainly reinforce the impression that she was completely barmy. 

“Hermione!” he called her in the hallway, but she glared at him and refused to slow her steps. She would die before she showed him how much he had hurt her by leaving her… 

“Hermione,” he repeated, his voice much less exuberant. “What’s the matter?”

“Nothing that I know of. Is there a problem?” she asked haughtily, determined to play the part of ice princess. 

He stilled his purposeful stride, coming to a halt only a few steps ahead of her. Hermione didn’t even slow down, not caring that he looked very confused as the crease between his eyebrows deepened and his head tilted to the side. 

“I am late for my duties in the Infirmary,” she couldn’t help lying. She could have kicked herself as soon as the words escaped. Hadn’t he shown her with perfect clarity that he didn’t much care where she was? And she was off-duty, on her way to her quarters.

In the brief seconds of their conversation, his expression had travelled from smugness to confusion, and finally settled on chilly indifference. Hermione told herself that she didn’t care. But when he whirled around, robes billowing around him in that familiar manner and walked away, she could have cried. Again. 

* * *

Two days after Snape returned from his mission, he opened the door to the dungeons and was faced with Hermione’s apologetic and slightly desperate face. His first instinct was to simply shut the door in her face, but then common sense prompted him to wonder why he’d opened at all. It wasn’t as though he hadn’t known who knocked. His wards had told him as much. 

“I’m sorry, Severus,” she said. “I thought you…I was…I thought you thought….” She stopped then, looking every bit as uncertain as he felt. But he knew what she was trying to say. He had figured it out. After all, he wasn’t stupid, and realised that his leaving could have been interpreted the way she had obviously done. 

Snape turned around and stalked into his quarters, expecting her to follow. He was sure he wasn’t as intimidating as when he wore his billowing cloak, but couldn’t be arsed to care. Right now, he was dressed in nothing but a pair of black slacks and his white button-down shirt. Late as it was, he had been contemplating getting ready for bed, and her visit was most unexpected. 

_But not unwelcome._

“I don’t fuck around, and I most definitely don’t fuck and leave,” Snape said, his voice cold as the Black Lake in winter as he turned toward her, standing in the middle of his sitting room. 

It wasn’t strictly true; there had been one-night stands in his past, but he had always made his intentions perfectly clear. And he had always been equally open when it mattered. But the truth of it was that few women had meant much before, not like this, and Hermione mattered. How could she not know that? That she even thought him capable of doing something so callous as to just leave her for good after what they had shared rankled deeply; it explained his less than charitable mood, and he had every right to be upset.

_She had sex with me, but she doesn’t trust me. She should have tried to contact me…_

Hermione looked utterly destroyed where she stood in front of him. Her hair was a curly halo around her distraught face, and her beautiful, amber coloured eyes were glistening as they gazed into his. 

“I… When you left before I woke up, I thought that…” She still couldn’t articulate what she was trying to say. Suddenly her eyes filled to the brim with tears and she turned away from him, apparently doing her damndest not to show him she was crying. 

“Bloody hell, Hermione,” he burst out, and before he was even aware of what he was doing, his arm had shot out and pulled her into his embrace. Her soft body against him felt like perfection; the past few days of separation had been awful, but he’d had a mission to accomplish. “I don’t… I never would have left if…” Severus didn’t know how to tell her what he meant, and could hardly speak past the tangle of emotions choking him. 

_What a pair we are,_ he thought ruefully. _And we’re both reasonably intelligent, normally quite eloquent people._

He drew a deep breath, gathering his thoughts and finally explained: “When the photograph of your parents fell to the floor and shattered and you started crying…it broke my heart, Hermione. When you told me about what you had done simply to protect them, I had to do _something_ to fix it. It wasn’t your responsibility to protect your parents. The Order should have helped you. _Dumbledore_ should have helped you.”

She looked up at him hesitantly, hope shining in her eyes. 

“But why didn’t you tell me what you were going to do? Why didn’t you leave a note? All I could think was that you didn’t care for me the way I care about you, and then I find out that you’ve gone and done something so incredibly… loving.” Her eyes were boring into his questioningly as she tried to reorder her world. 

Now it was his turn to be flustered. He released her, turned around and gazed through the window that was charmed to reveal the snowy landscape outside despite the fact that his living quarters were underground. He drew a hand over his face and turned back to her. 

“I wasn’t sure it was going to work, so I didn’t want to get your hopes up,” he admitted. “I thought it was better to surprise you if it worked, so I just left to find them.”

Letting his mind wander, Severus recalled the last several days.

_It had been fairly easy to find the Grangers. As Hermione had been crying about the broken photograph, she had volunteered all the information he would need to track them down in Australia. Working for Voldemort for so many years had made him adept at finding people, as well as using Obliviation spells and restorative memory charms. Still, it was highly delicate spell-work, and restoring memories sometimes went pear-shaped. While that was something the Dark Lord had not cared one iota about, Snape had not wanted to risk disappointing Hermione._

__The recollection of her curling up in his arms, crying, and telling him how much she still missed them nearly broke his heart. “I blame myself for Obliviating them,” she had sniffed._ _

___He’d tried to comfort her, of course, telling her that doing what she had done was necessary at the time. And it had been. If she hadn’t Obliviated them and sent them on their way, Snape was absolutely sure that her parents would not be alive today, and their deaths would have been gruesome at the hands of Death Eaters._ _ _

__“So, what did they say to you?” he inquired, wondering at the Grangers’ first meeting._ _

__“They arrived out of nowhere this morning and told me what you did,” Hermione admitted, swiping a hand across her eyes to remove the tears. “They were both angry and relieved. Everything that happened was restored. They remember me and their lives, and they believed me when I told them about them being in danger. They were still angry with me for not warning them, but they forgive me. They said you explained to them about the Death Eaters and Voldemort having them on his ‘List’,” she said wonderingly and made quotation marks in the air. She turned from him a little and he saw tears shining in her eyes. “Every charms master, spell-caster and expert I have talked to have said that it was impossible to restore their memories, and trying to do so would very likely turn them into vegetables for the remainder of their lives. What did you do that they couldn’t? How did you manage to fix them?”_ _

__“My skills at mind magic are very strong, and the Dark Lord often sent me to restore memories of people that have been Obliviated, or people who needed to forget something. I was often used to extract memories and information from unwilling people,” Snape explained. “Since I was not, and never have been, interested in destroying people’s minds. I became an expert at unravelling mental spells; I learned many obscure memory charms, some of them dark, some not.”_ _

__“So, you just fixed them?” she said._ _

__Snape laughed mirthlessly. “There was nothing ‘just’ about it, Hermione. It took all my skill and all my magic and nearly twenty-four hours of working through their false memories to retrieve their true ones, but, in essence, you are correct. I fixed them in the end.”_ _

__“Thank you, Severus,” she whispered and wrapped her arms around his waist. “I don’t know what else to say. I never thought I would have them back.”_ _

__“You should have trusted me,” he said and couldn’t help the twinge of sadness that crept into his voice._ _

___How do we build anything from distrust? How do I make her trust me? Could I even ask of her to trust me considering what I have done in the past?_ _ _

__“I _do_ trust you, Severus,” she said, and there was a tone of sadness in her voice too. Despite that, he couldn’t help snorting derisively and pull away from her – or try to. She refused to let him go, and instead tightened her grip around his waist and locked on to his gaze. She was pressed into him like she was glued on, and he reacted predictably to her luscious body. Snape tried to avert his eyes, but she simply tightened her grip even more. _ _

__“Look at me,” she begged. When he refused, she repeated herself. “Look at me, you bloody stubborn _git!_ ”_ _

__Her words made his eyes fly open on their own accord, staring at her in shock._ _

__“That’s better,” she said. “I am _insecure_ , and that’s why I reacted the way I did. I do trust you. That’s something I’ve always done, but trusting _myself_ is something else entirely. Trusting myself to be interesting enough, attractive enough, good enough to entice you…well. I’m sorry. I got completely terrified of not getting your attention for more than one night.”_ _

__“And now?” Snape asked cautiously. Being insecure, he could understand how she’d jumped to conclusions._ _

__“Now – after what you have done for me these past few days, I can’t doubt that you care about me.”_ _

__“I do,” he admitted. _Have done for a while now, no matter how much I’ve been trying to tell myself otherwise….__ _

__“I care about you, too, Severus. Now what do we do?”_ _

___Now what, indeed?_ _ _

__She melted into him like she was meant to be there. He just hoped she would remain in his arms forever. For as long as she wanted, he would keep her in his life – and in his bed._ _

__It seemed to him then that Hermione had thought a similar thought, for she pressed close and put her arms tightly around his neck, lifting her head to be kissed. His eyes zeroed in on those full, delicate, soft lips. It had been several days – too long – since he tasted her kisses. Kissing her lingeringly, he hoped to restrain his ardour, but when her warm, wet mouth opened to his, he couldn’t help but let out a groan that came from his very soul. When she let out a similar sound, pleasure pierced through his body. They needed to talk more, but not right now. Later._ _

__He pulled her tightly to him, loving the feel of her lush body against his. He’d been yearning for this ever since he left her several days before._ _

__“I can’t seem to concentrate on anything other than how much I want you,” he admitted._ _

__She pulled away just a little bit and the unbridled lust in her eyes unmanned him. “Fuck me, Severus,” she begged unashamedly. “Please, just fuck me.”_ _

__Her words sent a painful spike of needy desire through his body that had him fully erect before the words had left her mouth. He groaned and pulled her closer, almost delirious with the pleasure of her body pressed against his._ _

__“Oh, god, yes, Hermione. Yes. I want you so much. But I won’t fuck you,” he clarified._ _

__She pulled back and looked at him, askance._ _

__“I want to make love to you,” he explained, barely recognising his own voice, it was so husky with desire and need for her. Then he leaned forward and took her mouth in another deep, passionate kiss. Her lips were so warm and pliable underneath his, her tongue welcoming as he thrust his into her mouth. Their kisses grew deeper, open-mouthed and almost desperate. Then her hand moved in between them, cupping his straining erection through his trousers. Involuntarily he thrust into her warm caress, gasping as he broke their kiss._ _

__“Oh,” he groaned. “Merlin alive, woman, you’re killing me.” Laughter was his response, and he rather felt it against his shoulder, than heard it._ _

___She makes me feel like a randy Sixth-year,_ Snape thought. _It’s almost as though I’ve never been with a woman before. It isn’t an altogether bad thing…all visceral reaction and yet all the experience of someone a little bit older and – hopefully – better.__ _

__Apparently, he made her feel the same because she was trying to climb him like a tree. He hoisted her legs up and she wrapped them eagerly around his narrow hips. Her skirt flowed around her legs like a fan and the flimsy material was easy to push aside. Feeling her heat against his straining cock made a frisson of desire shoot through him again. He buried his face in the crook of her neck and inhaled deeply. She smelled so good, of milk and honey and a fragrance that was all her own. Suddenly he was absolutely sure; he would easily be able to pick her out of a crowd from her scent alone._ _

__“Severus,” she moaned against his neck, her lips sucking eagerly at his earlobe and doing wicked things to his insides._ _

__“Yes,” he replied throatily._ _

__“Take me to bed, now.”_ _

__

__THREE_ _

__Severus was slim and wiry between her legs. The sensation of wrapping herself around him was a little bit familiar but still very new and exciting. His sinewy muscles moving against her bare inner thighs as he carried her off to his bed was heavenly. Feeling his hands on her bum, holding her up, filling her nostrils with his scent and her tongue with his taste; his cock pressing against her pussy, even through the layers of clothing was just the icing on the cake. Hermione was completely blissed out by the sensations. Running her fingers through his hair, she reaffirmed that it was very fine and soft to the touch. His standing over potions most of the day did make it somewhat greasy, but she found out that his hair also smelled as good as he did, potions or no potions._ _

__She bounced on his bed as he threw her down on it. She didn’t have time to register much about his bedroom other than the surface she landed on. The bed was large, more than adequate for any gymnastics they might want to partake in. The bed linens were dark green and off-white, making Hermione feel as though she was lying on a spring flower bed._ _

__“You make me feel like a teenager, Hermione,” Snape murmured as he crawled on all fours over her body, still clad in his shirt and trousers. His slacks were quite obviously tented from the bulging erection beneath. Watching him adjust himself slightly, she was surprised when he stopped above her prone body with a predatory gleam in his black eyes. Her eyes caught the way his belt buckle gleamed in the faint light from the fireplace; the way the slacks hugged his hips and waist; the way the shirt stretched over his tight pectoral muscles, and the way the trousers clung to his wiry, long thighs as he then lay down on top of her, fully clothed._ _

__“I remember being a teenager, getting thoroughly turned on by some heavy petting and frottage. What do you think about that, my sweet little girl?”_ _

__If she hadn’t been lying down, he could have pushed her down with a feather or a breath. She just looked at him with her eyes open, but his hands moved underneath her skirt to push it up around her waist and then he came to rest between her spread legs. His erection settled so deliciously against her opening and her clit that she didn’t mind the clothes in between. When he started moving, swivelling his hips, angling them just so, she groaned, and he chuckled hoarsely. “I know. Sometimes you just want to get on with it, and sometimes, it’s nice to just pretend that you are barely allowed to touch – at least not yet,” he purred. The deep tone of his voice felt like a caress, even more so as his breath ghosted over her ear, making her entire side tingle with anticipation. All she wanted was to tear off his pants, make him remove her knickers and push into her, but if he could hold off, so could she._ _

__Instead, Hermione spread her legs a little wider, wrapping her legs around his thighs, letting her bare feet drag along the soft fabric of his trousers. Her hands moved almost as if on their own volition, down to cup his tight arse. She grabbed it hungrily, greedily, unable to get enough of the feel of him._ _

___Oh yes, I could learn to like this, too,_ thought Hermione. _I can’t believe I’m doing this with him of all people – but there is nobody else I would want to be with, like this. Nobody.__ _

__“I l-love the feel of your b-body against mine,” she stammered, flushing profusely but kept going anyway. “The way you move. Oh, gods, you feel so…good. No, ‘good’ is not the word I’m looking for; you feel _perfect _against me.”___ _

____“I know what you mean,” he hissed, and she felt how his cock must be gliding in and out of his foreskin as he moved, the motion was so fluid, as though he were inside her already. He kept the thrusting rhythm going, moving his hands around her body, grabbing onto her bum and grinding into her with more vigour. “Oh, just think of how good it will feel once I open my trousers, take myself out and push inside your wet, tight and hot pussy. I can’t wait to feel you around my cock, pulling me inside, welcoming me into your fit, little body.”_ _ _ _

____“Oh yes, Severus,” she moaned. “I want to feel you inside me, filling me to the core. I love that you’re so hard for me. I want you, too, Severus. Inside me, thrusting and pushing. Oh _god._ ”_ _ _ _

____She was swollen and wet for him. It was incredible, the way she felt just being near him, doing something so juvenile, and as one of his hands moved from her bum to her breast, cupping it outside her shirt, and her bra, she couldn’t believe how the touch travelled through the clothing, almost as though the fabric intensified the touch._ _ _ _

____“Oh, Circe,” she gasped. “Damn it, Severus, it’s too much, or not enough. I’m not sure.” She met every thrust with equal fervour. It was almost enough to make her come. “Severus,” she moaned. “Oh, Severus. Oh, please, just fuck me.”_ _ _ _

____Her words were enough. He stopped grinding into her, and moved his hand from her breast to his trousers, unbuckling his belt, and pulling it free, impatiently opening his trousers._ _ _ _

____“Pull me out, Hermione,” he ordered. “Just touch my cock. I want to feel your delicious hands on my skin.”_ _ _ _

____She obeyed immediately and marvelled at the feeling of his silky-steel erection in her hands. She pulled at him a couple of times, experimentally. While she was busy doing that, he started pulling at her knickers and she sighed as he had to move back a little just to pull them off her._ _ _ _

____Hermione stilled immediately. The sight of him like that, with his shirt buttoned, his trousers on, his hair mussed, a flush staining his pale cheeks and lust shining from his eyes, he was gorgeous. Looking proper and completely debauched at the same time with his gorgeous cock standing proudly between his legs. She just wanted him inside her._ _ _ _

_____Mine_ , she thought. _ _ _ _

____“Mine,” she whispered quietly enough that he might not catch it – maybe – but she realized she was wrong. His eyes started glinting ferally and she shuddered as he took himself in hand, leaned over her, his hair falling across her face. But she glanced down and watched as he positioned his cock at her entrance and _pushed._ _ _ _ _

____“Yours,” he groaned meeting her gaze steadily, his ink black hair swinging as he started thrusting into her. “All yours.”_ _ _ _

____“Oh, fuck!” Hermione screamed and arched against him._ _ _ _

____The sensation of him filling her was no less amazing now than it had been the other times they had fucked – or perhaps made love. She was beginning to let herself hope that this was something that might actually grow into more than sex._ _ _ _

____Being almost completely dressed while doing something so intimate was devastatingly erotic to Hermione. It triggered an arousal she hadn’t felt before – except maybe when Severus had fucked her against a wall. But how had he known she would find this such a turn on? How come she _did_ find it such a turn-on? Was it simply that it was yet another reminder of who he was? The untouchable, stern, asexual Severus Snape nearly losing control? Or was it just the inherent feeling of doing something forbidden? What she was experiencing now was nothing like it had been with Ron. If the feelings she’d had for him could be compared to the tiny _lumos_ from the tip of a wand, what she felt for and with Severus was like _Fiendfyre;_ wild, untameable and all-consuming. _ _ _ _

____She felt the fabric of his trousers chafe a little against her naked thighs and his belt-buckle dug into her stomach a little bit. It wasn’t enough to really bother her though, and the luxurious cotton in his shirt felt soft and crisp under her hands as she caressed him, enjoying the deep, hard thrusts. He was pushing into her in slow, even strokes, push and pull, push and pull, almost all the way out and then down to the hilt. They both moaned as he buried himself inside her repeatedly._ _ _ _

____Hermione was getting desperate to feel some of that soft, pale skin under her fingertips, so she started pulling at his shirt, getting it out of his trousers, pushing her hands underneath it and the hiss he let out as her fingers glided of his taut muscles made her grin against his throat._ _ _ _

____“You smell so good,” she moaned against his neck, inhaling his scent deep into her nostrils. “And you taste so good,” she continued as she licked and kissed him along his jaw, moving quickly over his neck where the scars from Nagini’s bite was; not because she was put off by them, but because she knew he could barely feel her touch there. Instead, she lifted her body up, and caught his mouth for another kiss. She thrust her tongue into his mouth and he welcomed it, sucked on it and the feeling sent shivers down her spine._ _ _ _

____He pulled away from her and moved one of his hands, that up until now had held him up, to the buttons of her shirt. His movements became a little unsteady and uneven, but he managed to open her blouse, only to be met with the lacy, crimson brassiere she was wearing._ _ _ _

____“Pretty,” he commented and leered at her. She let out a huff of a laugh but moaned when he simply pushed the cup off her breast, leaned forward and took the entire areola into his mouth, sucking, licking and nibbling at the nipple._ _ _ _

____“Oh, good god,” she groaned, and arched into him again. His reaction to having her breast at his disposal was quick and obvious, as he sped up his thrusts._ _ _ _

____He only lifted his head enough to say three words. “Touch yourself, Hermione.”_ _ _ _

____He didn’t have to tell her that twice. Getting closer to the crest by the second, it wouldn’t take all that much to push her over the edge. She pushed her hand in between them and she could feel the crisp hairs around his cock brush her fingertips, and her own as well. Curiously, she moved her hand a little further down, just to feel where his cock entered her, and she almost whimpered at the sensation. Just feeling him there, pushing and pulling, thick and hard, slick with her juices, entering her and withdrawing, over and over again made her desperate to come._ _ _ _

____“Oh, god, Hermione. If you do that for much longer, you’re going to push me over the edge. Just touch yourself, girl. Come for me. Come on my cock!”_ _ _ _

____Doing as he asked, she started caressing her clit, slowly at first, then faster as she got closer. She felt the familiar tightening that kept tensing up more by each clenching of her inner muscles. Suddenly, she crested, and she moaned in a way that would have normally made her embarrassed, but now only served to let him know how very, very good they were together._ _ _ _

____“Fuck, that’s good,” he groaned, and she felt him harden even more. His thrusts sped up, but were still as deep and penetrating as before. Then she felt him start to pulse inside her; his thrusts becoming shorter as he snapped his hips and kept moving through his orgasm and then relaxed, bonelessly on top of her. She didn’t mind. Instead, she wrapped both arms around his slim body and basked in the pleasure of having him so close, of knowing that their misunderstanding had been resolved and that he, indeed, wanted her as much as she wanted him._ _ _ _

____“Oh, Hermione,” he sighed and pulled out of her, and laid down beside her. “You’re just…perfect,” he murmured._ _ _ _

____Satisfied and sated – at least for the time being – she curled up beside him. “My clothes are all sticky,” she said. “And so are yours.”_ _ _ _

____“Mmm,” was his only response as he lay beside her with his eyes closed, and a very calm expression on his face. He looked almost happy._ _ _ _

____“Are you all right, Severus?” she asked._ _ _ _

____“I am perfect. Couldn’t be better.”_ _ _ _

____“Do you want me to stay?”_ _ _ _

____At that he opened his eyes and turned to her with a quizzical look on his face. “I thought we sorted that out. Besides, I think the fact that I am ‘yours’ means something.”_ _ _ _

____“That was in the heat of the moment and all,” Hermione pointed out, and hated the fact that she still felt insecure._ _ _ _

____“I’m yours,” he repeated, looking into her eyes, deeply, honestly. “And I want you to stay. If you want to,” he amended, and now it was his turn to seem uncertain._ _ _ _

____“Aren’t we a pair?” Hermione said and laughed._ _ _ _

____“That we are,” Severus replied. “And I hope we’ll stay that way.”_ _ _ _

____“Since, evidently, I have a say in the matter. We will,” Hermione decided and nestled into his embrace._ _ _ _

____“But you know, we really do need a shower, and to clean up our clothes, and….”_ _ _ _

____“Later, woman. Later we’ll do that, and we’ll talk and we’ll …everything. But for this moment. Let’s just bask in the afterglow all right?” he said, sounding just a little bit exasperated._ _ _ _

____So, they did. Bask, that is._ ___

**Author's Note:**

> Please comment. It is my lifes blood as an author. I have another sshg story in the works but am blocked. Feedback might get me going, and it really is an inspiration and so are comment and love ....please feed me back if you enjoy
> 
>  **Author’s Note/Thanks to:** My marvellous BETA reader, **Ms_Anthrop, - really! –** without her this story would definitely **not** be what it is. Her knowledge of writing, British English and her willingness to share plot suggestions and tips throughout the story has been invaluable. She pushed me and gave me ideas and helped me in ways I cannot describe. **LissaDream** has given me encouragement and editing ideas and general cheering on. I truly appreciate the support! I need that when working on a story. Remaining errors are my own because I tend to change things until the very last moment. I also want to thank **the Mods,** who let me have extensions enough to make this story as good as it could get. Thank you so much to all of you and I hope the story will meet the approval of **articcat621,** my giftee at the 2017-HGSS gift fest on LiveJournal.'
> 
> A/N: The prompts I played around with were a little generic, but I have tried to make something of them. My story doesn’t meet either one on the nose, but is more a merger of two prompts. I hope the story meets the prompts well enough to make my giftee happy.
> 
>  
> 
> _Here are they:_  
>   
>  _“An over-indulgence at the Ministry holiday party leads to a night that Hermione will never remember and a morning she will never forget.”_  
>   
>  _“The holiday staff party ends the same way every year - Hermione and Snape bickering before snogging each other to death under the mistletoe.”_  
>   
>   
> 


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